Remembering
by Yndilwen
Summary: "There's no way he could have made it" that's what they had told Steve after his best friend never returned. Four years later, Steve is helping Sam council veterans with PTSD in an atempt to ease his survivor's guilt. When Rhodey calls them in for an emergency at the local police station though, nothing in the world could have prepared Steve for what he would find there... (AU FF)
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! So this is the second FF I'm publishing. I really hope you guys enjoy it! Please leave reviews and let me know what you think!

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 **Chapter 1**

Steve sat at the back of the spacious hall, listening to the man that was talking. The man's black hair was cut short to frame his bony face. Worry had drawn lines across his face that were yet to fade away. The man was talking about what he had experienced overseas. He was a veteran. Sam, Steve's close friend, was leaning his hands on the podium in front of the group, his eyes staying fixed on the man that had stood up to talk. Steve listened to every gory detail, his mind drawing vivid, blood-drenched images of what the man was describing in a trembling voice.

Had Bucky gone through something similar?

The thought made his stomach twist and he had to close his eyes to compose himself. It had been almost four years and yet the thought of Bucky still made Steve's mind spill over into a panic. He could still remember exactly what he had felt when they had told him that he was MIA and probably dead. Steve had yelled at them, telling them to get back out there and look for him. The enemy was everywhere, they had said, there was no way Sergeant Barnes could have survived. Listening to the man's story- to all the veterans' stories- he began believing the men that had told him that his best friend was gone for good. How could Bucky have survived in a war? Yes, he had been an incredibly able man and yet there was no way he could fight off an entire army on his own. He forced himself to stop thinking about Bucky and bright steel-blue eyes and a charming smile. He tried not to think of Bucky's lifeless body lying in a trench somewhere, drenched in his own blood. He tried to tell himself that Bucky was better off now, happy wherever he was. A movement yanked him back to reality and he realized the man had finished talking and was now taking a seat again.

"Thank you for your honesty." Sam spoke in a level voice and the other veterans nodded in agreement, "I think we'll end our meeting on that note. I'm really proud of the progress you guys are making. Keep it up." He made a dismissive hand gesture and the group dispersed. A few veterans stayed behind to talk to Sam who smiled at each of them as they spoke. Sam really cared about these people, being a veteran himself. Sam had once told Steve about his wingman, his comrade Riley who hadn't made it back home with Sam. The loss of Riley was what got Sam into counselling. Steve watched quietly, studying the facial expressions of the veterans and Sam's reaction to them. Steve had always been extremely good at reading people. Being an artist, he tended to pay attention to the small details that other people missed and as a result, picked up on small, hardly visible changes in body language. The SWAT team had greatly appreciated that skillset of his. They had also appreciated his leadership qualities, his loyalty and his amazing physique. Steve hadn't always had broad shoulders and toned muscles that could make pretty much any guy jealous. Before Bucky enlisted, Steve had been a skinny, frail kid who would always get sick. Bucky would have to wrap him up in his arms and hold him all night to keep him warm during the winters.

Steve forced himself out of his thoughts again, smiling at Sam when the latter made his way over to him, having finished his talk with the veterans. "Today went really well." Sam noted, taking a seat next to Steve and crossing his arms across his built chest, "What do you think?" He added when Steve failed to give him a satisfactory response. "I kind of spaced out somewhere along the line." Steve admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Sam eyed him for a moment, his black eyebrows furrowing slightly. "I know this ain't easy for you." Sam dropped his arms and placed a hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, "I know most of it reminds you of him." Steve felt a knot form in his stomach and he cleared his throat in an attempt to swallow the lump in his throat. "It does." He admitted openly, "But I guess it also helps me work through things."

"And you're sure you wanna do this?" Sam had asked Steve to assist him in working with veterans with extreme cases of PTSD. Steve had something special that made people warm up to him immediately. He was good for people and he was sensitive enough to be able to deal with PTSD patients without Sam having to supervise the whole time. At first Steve hadn't been sure whether or not he was the right man for the job. Sam had invited him to sit in with some of his sessions and with time, the thought of being able to help people had grown on Steve, so much so that he actually started to come out of his apartment more often just to visit the centre where Sam worked.

After finding out that Bucky was gone, he had tried to throw himself back into his work, follow orders, do the right thing. It hadn't been that easy though. After one and a half years of pretending that he was still capable of working under such high demands, he resigned, becoming somewhat of a hermit. The only time he would leave his flat for a longer period was to go out for a drink with Natasha, Sam and Clint. That is, until Sam asked him for help.

"I want to help people." Steve decided, looking Sam right in the eyes, "I really, really wanna do this." Sam smiled at that. Steve had that look on his face again- the look that let you know that he had set his mind on something and wasn't going to be deterred from that regardless of the circumstances. Steve was one of the most stubborn people Sam knew. "Well then-," Sam took a deep breath, wiggling around in his seat a tittle to sit more comfortably, "how about we start tomorrow?" Steve nodded. He let his sky blue eyes wander around the hall while he thought about working together with Sam.

It was a good thought. He was going to help people. He was going to ease his conscience.

* * *

The first few hours were awkward for Steve. It was strange to talk to people one on one. At first he had settled down beside Sam and had listened to the way he spoke to the veterans that were there for private counselling sessions. He'd try to memorise Sam's body language and his mimicry, watching the way the veterans would respond to any changes that Sam displayed. Maybe he was overthinking things and over-analysing but he didn't want to make any mistakes. He was here to help people, not make things worse. Most of the time, Sam would just listen intently, nodding when the patient would look at him for affirmation. Obviously having someone to listen meant a lot to these people. It also helped to know that Sam shared the same kind of history with them. They needed to know that they weren't alone in what they'd gone through and that's what Sam was there for. After a while Sam withdrew himself more and more, leaving more room for Steve to ask pointed questions and jot down notes diligently.

Just as Sam had expected, the patients all took a liking to Steve very quickly. His easy smile and his bright eyes drew people in and made them feel at ease. His sturdy body won him their respect and his non-judgemental demeanour made them feel safe. Steve was a natural, even managing to coax a laugh or a smile out of some of the veterans. Talking to Steve was easy and it was something all of them appreciated very much. Steve would openly tell them about Bucky, knowing that it would help them to hear about it. It didn't do him much good though and by the time he had told the story for the fifth time, he felt emotionally drained and ready to curl up into a ball and wail.

He flinched when the office phone started ringing on the desk behind their patient. He looked over at Sam who was quick to answer the phone. The elderly man they were counselling watched Sam intently, his fuzzy grey eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about sir?" Steve asked him politely, drawing the man's attention to him while Sam spoke into the receiver in a hushed tone. The man hesitated for a moment, having been startled by the sudden loud noise. Steve waited, giving him a reassuring smile while he did so. "How do you do it?" The man's question startled Steve and he sat back in his chair, cocking his head to the side in a silent question, "How do you smile like that when you've lost someone so dear to you?" The question sent whirls of pain and anxiety through Steve and his body went rigid for a moment. Images of Bucky and the wonderful sound of his voice flooded his mind and the fact that all of that was gone made him feel anxious and empty. He had to swallow, bowing his head for a moment. These counselling sessions were about the veterans. Never had one of them actively asked Steve a question, never mind a question about Bucky of all things. It threw him off completely and Sam was too preoccupied with the phone call to help Steve much.

 _Be honest._ He told himself, steeling himself and looking up at the man who was waiting for his answer expectantly. "It's not that easy." He admitted, "Most of the time I think that I don't deserve to smile when he…" his voice drifted off and the elderly man nodded understandingly, "But then I know that Bucky would have hit me over the head if he knew how much I was beating myself up over all of this." This made the man smile gently, "So I guess I'm trying to live my life for the both of us. 'Cause you don't die for your friends- you live for them. To me, giving up on happiness and letting all of this break me down would be the same as dying." The man's eyes widened and his jaw became slack for a moment, "I know it's so easy to think that we as survivors don't deserve any happiness whatsoever but if we think that way, we're not honouring our comrade's sacrifice. They made a choice and they must have thought that dying for something or someone was damn well worth it otherwise they wouldn't have done it. I know that if I had died instead of Bucky, and if I saw him moping around, I'd come back from the dead and beat some sense into him." If only Steve could follow his own damn advice. He'd spend hours thinking about how much he wished that he could have died in Bucky's place; hours feeling absolutely guilty and pathetic for having been rejected by the army when Bucky wasn't.

"Hey Steve?" Sam interrupted their conversation and Steve had to blink a few times to come out of his little thought bubble, "We have an emergency at the police station down the road. They called us to assist them." Police station? Since when was Sam called to help at a police station?

"Us?" The word slipped out of Steve's mouth before he could stop it.

"Yeah. Colonel Rhodes said he definitely wants you there too." Steve remembered Rhodey- he had been on numerous SWAT missions with Steve. He must have found out that Steve was helping Sam.

"I'm really sorry-." Steve wanted to apologize to the veteran but the man held his hand up to silence Steve.

"Go on boy." He smiled at him, "Go live your life for the two of you."

* * *

"Okay so what is going on?" Steve turned to Sam as soon as they had let the veteran out of their office.

"A man with a severe case of PTSD was brought to New York for a rehabilitation program but it didn't work."

"What do you mean it didn't work?"

"He's wrecked. Won't let anyone close to him. He's tried to kill every man or woman they send into his cell."

"They're keeping him in a cell? No wonder he feels the need to defend himself." Sam nodded at that, agreeing with Steve's sentiment.

"I guess if he's as volatile as Rhodey said he is then they might have no choice but to keep him in a cell." He paused, watching a contemplative frown creep onto Steve's face, "They're pretty desperate." Sam added hopefully. He knew he was throwing Steve into the deep end with this but he knew he couldn't do this without Steve. "Well…" Steve chewed on his bottom lip for a moment while considering his options, "I guess if Rhodey wants me there…"

"Thank you so much man! I owe you big time!" Sam slapped him on the back before slipping behind the desk that stood opposite to the sitting arrangement in front of a large window. He fished out his car key from the top drawer and twirled them on his finger, grinning at Steve who just rolled his eyes.

* * *

Steve's body was tight with nervousness when he got out of Sam's old Mustang. The police station was bustling with officers. It was a familiar sight, one that made Steve alert and ready to jump into action. He had wondered about Rhodey's wish to have him there the entire time while they drove over to the station. What reason could Rhodey have to want him there? Was it because of how volatile this man apparently was? Did he think that Steve could put up a fight and maybe calm him down?

He followed Sam through the front entrance of the police station. Rhodey was standing at the reception, tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. His face lit up the moment he saw Sam and Steve walk through the entrance and he was quick to intercept them. "Thank goodness you could make it this quickly!" He shook both their hands, "Captain." He added, nodding at Steve who wanted to cringe at the title. He had a feeling that he was going to hear that often in the next while. "So what's the deal with this man?" Sam asked, leaning against the side of the reception and eying the pretty woman that sat there. "Well he came in yesterday. Bet you won't guess what they brought him in." Rhodey paused for a moment before continuing, "It was a maximum security cuff system similar to the one used on the electric chair. It's pretty much impossible to break out of." Steve remembered what it looked like. A large metal chair was bolted into the middle of a man-sized glass case. The arms and legs of the inmate are strapped to the chair by thick, impenetrable metal cuffs. Two metal brackets are placed over the prisoner's front and two over the back, constricting his movement entirely.

"Why would they need to use something like that on a normal veteran?" Steve asked and Rhodey shook his head, running the back of his hand over his forehead while sighing. "Well 'cause he ain't no normal veteran..." Steve exchanged a wary glance with Sam who fixed Rhodey with a concentrated stare. "Tell us everything you know."

"He's a lot stronger than a normal person and well… his left arm is a prosthetic made out of metal. It isn't just metal though, it's cybernetic and extremely powerful. He managed to punch a hole right through one of our walls with that. He doesn't seem to know who he is or where he is. He hasn't said a single word since contained and, as I told you before Sam, he's tried to kill every single person that's gone in to talk to him. We've sent in our best psychologist but he came out with two broken arms, a dislocated shoulder, lacerations all over his face, a splintered leg and strangle marks all over his neck."

"Wait…" Steve frowned, "You said a veteran with an extreme case of PTSD. If he doesn't know who he is, how do you know he's a veteran?" Rhodey nodded hastily and his hand vanished into the inside pocket of his dark blue military blazer. The familiar sound of dog tags clinking together drew Steve's attention to the two metal objects dangling at the end of the chain Rhodey was holding up. "They were covered in blood and dented but we managed to clean them up nicely. He was wearing these when they found him." He handed them to Sam who inspected them first. Steve craned his neck, trying to see the name but Sam took his time to look at them. Soon though, Steve found the dog tags in his hand. He turned them over so he could see the name and for a short moment, his brain short circuited and the blood in his veins froze.

"James B. Barnes." He read the name out loud before dropping the dog tags, taking a step back and sinking to the ground.

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So there you have chapter 1! I really hope you enjoyed it and I hope you'll stick around for the rest of the ff. Let me know what you think~


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter! I'm so so glad you enjoyed it! I'll be posting frequently atm becuase I've written quite a few chapters already. Once I start writing as I post it might take a little longer. Well here you have chapter 2! Enjoy and let me know what you guys think! 3

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 **Chapter 2**

James B. Barnes.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky Barnes.

Bucky.

His Bucky.

"Captain Rogers?" He heard a voice above the sound of his shallow breathing. He was staring at the grey marble floor beneath him. His arms were hanging limply at his sides, his shoulders slumped over and his back bent. "Steve?" A different voice spoke up and an arm was placed across his back, "Steve can you hear me?" A cold shiver raced through his entire body and he hunched over even more. His breath started coming out in trembling wheezes and his eyes began to burn with pending tears. Images raced back into the forefront of his mind; memories of hot summers and cheap ice-cream. Of two boys sneaking into the movie theatre when the security guards weren't looking. Of fights in alleys and plasters afterwards. Of strong hands holding him back when he wanted nothing more than to fight, fight, fight and _Damn it Buck he had it comin'!_ _I had him on the ropes! Come on! Le'me go Buck!_

"Bucky." The word slipped out between his trembling lips and he swallowed his tears, trying to get a grasp on reality again. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he was still in the police station, that people were no doubt staring at him. He had to get a grip. He focused on the grounding touch of Sam's arm against his back for a moment, it reminding him that he was still awake, still alive- that he wasn't losing his grip on reality. "Steve? Come on man, work with me here." It was Sam again, his hand brushed across Steve's back comfortingly, "You're okay." He assured him gently, "You're in the New York Police Department with me and Rhodey. You're in the reception area. It's kinda chilly in here, isn't it? Hey… Steve can you hear me?" Steve nodded numbly, clinging onto every word Sam was saying, letting them coax him out of his panicked frenzy, "Steve breathe with me." He was trying to breathe! Really, he was trying so hard but it just wasn't working and _Stevie. Breathe with me. You gotta breathe Stevie! I ain't leaving ya! Just please breathe!_

Another wave of anxiety washed through Steve and he bent forward even more, lifting his hands to press them against his face, ignoring the fact that the pressure against his eyes hurt. "Steve! Hey! Stop it! Stop thinking about it- no matter what it is. You're not there! You're here with me." Sam tried again, more firmly this time, pushing against Steve a little harder so that Steve could no longer ignore the touch. "I know it hurts but we can help you Steve. Listen to me man! You just gotta come back to us! You're in the police station remember? We're here to do a job. Remember that? Just breathe. Like this, okay?" Steve focused on the exaggerated breaths being taken next to him and he tried to match them. He felt like he was having an asthma attack again but he hadn't had those in absolute years.

 _Panic attack._ He told himself, telling himself to calm down over and over again. He dug deep into the SWAT training he'd had all those years back, forcing his breaths to deepen and slow down, using Sam's breathing to assist him. He relaxed his body slowly, starting with his hands, then his arms, shoulders, back and so on until his body felt like a big bowel of jelly. Once he was sure he was in control of his body again, he lifted his head slowly, dreading the looks he was going to see on Rhodey and Sam's faces. Rhodey looked a lot more composed than Sam did and yet his eyes were still shimmering with a layer of deep concern. Sam looked like he had the first time he'd witnessed one of Steve's nightmares about Bucky. He looked helpless, his free hand hovering in the air like he wanted to do something with it but didn't know what.

"What happened there?" Sam asked Steve quietly, putting an arm under Steve's to help him up slowly. Steve reached out for the reception counter blindly, clinging onto it to keep himself upright. "James Buchanan Barnes." He choked out the name as if it were covered in barbed wire and tore at his throat when he said it, "The man's name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He was born in Brooklyn, New York, he's 27 years old and he… he's my best friend."

"No way." Sam gasped, covering his face with his free hand, the other still keeping a firm grip on Steve, "Of all the people to find… damn Steve… Damn! Sorry. I'm so sorry man!"

"Care to fill me in?" Rhodey asked in a gentle, if not caring voice, his attentive eyes panning between Sam and Steve.

"He was filed as MIA close to four years ago." Sam began, saving Steve the agony of having to retell the story _again_ , "They said there was no way he could have survived."

"But obviously he did… if this man is really Sergeant James Barnes." Rhodey bent down to pick up the dog tags, examining them as if they could tell him if all of this was really true. "Take me… take me to him." Steve wanted to demand but his voice came out sounding more like a desperate plea. "Captain, I asked you to come here because your combat skills are unparalleled in the entire United States. I wouldn't have called you here if I had known that this man meant something to you."

"Either way… it doesn't matter if I know him or not."

"You won't be able to stay objective."

"I don't care." He replied, lifting his head to lock his eyes with those of the Colonel, "I have to see him myself. I have to make sure that it's really him."

"Steve… if what the Colonel says is true, he won't know you." Sam stated carefully.

"He will." Steve's face hardened and he got that same look in his eyes again- the look of pure determination. Sam sighed. There was no point in arguing with Steve when he got like this so Sam saved himself the hassle. "Steve _is_ the only one of us that can tell if the man in there really is James Barnes." He took Steve's side reluctantly and Rhodey nodded his head with equal reluctance.

"If Sam thinks it's safe…" Rhodey let his voice drift off and Steve gave him a grateful look.

Sam led Steve along a narrow passage, following Rhodey until they got to the back of the police station. "In here." He opened the second last door to the right of the passage, letting Sam and Steve in first. Steve's eyes found the window immediately but it was blacked out. Irritated, he searched for a way to make it reveal what was behind the darkness. He knew that Bucky was right there on the other side of the glass- he could _feel_ it. His body felt like it was burning up and his muscles were itching uncomfortably beneath his skin. Once the door was closed behind them, Rhodey picked up a small remote that had been lying next to the microphone on the desk in front of the mirrored glass. "Are you sure you want to do this Steve?" Rhodey asked him one last time and when Steve nodded resolutely, a button was pushed and the dark screen lifted. The interrogation room was much like any other interrogation room Steve had seen during his time with the SWAT team. A metal table, that would usually be standing in the middle of the room, had been thrown against the wall and was now lying on its side opposite to the door, broken and bent. The metal walls had dents and scratches in them and pieces of torn cloth were lying scattered across the floor. Steve held his breath, walking right up to the window and pressing his forehead against it. There, in the far corner of the room, sat an incredibly muscular man with long brown hair. He was sitting on the only metal chair in the room. His head was bowed and he looked like he was staring down at his hands. One of his hands, the left one, gleamed in the light cast by the lamp above his head. It was unmistakably made of metal. The man was wearing a long-sleeved torn wine red shirt that stuck to his sweaty torso. The sleeves were pulled up to just below his elbows. His imposing chest was heaving up and down with his deep breaths. His hair looked like it hadn't been washed in days and from what Steve could see, the man had stubble on his chin.

This man, whoever he was, looked nothing like the Bucky he had known all those years back. Bucky had been tall, much like this man, and had had enough muscle to show and yet he would almost have been considered lean. He had been incredibly popular with the ladies thanks to his great sense of humour and his immaculate posture. Then of course there were his sparkling steel-blue eyes and the catty curve to his plump lips. His confidence and good will had shone through in both his mimicry and his body language and it had drawn people to him like a swarm of bees to a beautiful flower. This man however, was hunched over like he had been beaten repeatedly, cowering in the corner like a hurt Rottweiler. His body was telling Steve that he wanted nothing to do with the outside world. He was like a tightly wound spring, ready to lash out at whatever might set him off. Steve yearned to see the man's face that was curtained by his long, unkempt hair. "And? You recognize him?" Sam asked after a long, deafening silence. Steve let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "I need to see his face." Steve said, "It's been four years since I've seen Bucky. A lot can change in four years." He would know. Bucky would probably never believe him if he saw him now. He'd gone from small, skinny and sickly to big, strong and incredibly healthy. "I doubt I can get him to lift his head." Rhodey admitted ruefully, "He won't listen to a damn thing we tell him to do."

"You said you thought I stood a good chance against him?"

"Oh hell no!" Sam interrupted Steve and Rhodey before this could get any worse, "You are _not_ going in there with that guy! He's a freaking wolverine! Have you _seen_ the movies?! People _die_ when Logan goes crazy!"

"Come on Sam. It's Bucky." Steve pleaded but all Sam did was cross his arms across his chest to underline his point.

"That man is nothing like the man you described to me that one time! How do you know it's Bucky? And even if it is him, does Bucky know it's you? Whoever he used to be Steve, the man he is now… I don't think he's the kind you save, he's the kind you stop and lock away."

"I don't think I can let that happen."

"He might not give you a choice." Sam argued.

"But that doesn't mean I can't try. You heard Rhodey Sam- I can do this! As soon as things get out of hand I'll come out of there okay? _Please_! I have to do this!" Sam stared into Steve's eyes for a long time before throwing his hands up above his head and letting out a frustrated groan. "Well if you get yourself killed in there Steve, it ain't my problem!"

"Thank you so much Sam!" Steve grinned at him before turning to Rhodey and giving him a nod.

"Be careful Steve!" Sam called after him when they left the room.

* * *

"And you're sure you don't want to wear any protective gear?" Rhodey asked him again. They were standing in front of the last room on the right in front of a door that read _Interrogation Room 1_ in bold white letters on a black background. A piece of paper was stuck to the door with the words _Do not enter!_ scrawled on it. Yes, Steve would definitely feel safer wearing a SWAT uniform when facing off against a man that could probably snap his head clean off his shoulders. Something told him that that wouldn't be a good idea though. He thought about how he would feel if he was locked away in a strange room, subjected to strange people one after the other like a circus animal- he wouldn't want a man wearing armoured clothing to walk in on him as if he were some kind of monster. "I have my hands." Steve assured him, "It's all I need."

"Take this at least." Rhodey turned to the left of the door, picking up a round metal shield that Steve hadn't noticed before. It had been silently leaning against the wall next to the door, waiting for someone to pick it up. "What's this?" He asked, taking it from Rhodey and slipping his arm through the leather straps at the back of the silver shield. "It's something our tech guys have been working on. It's made of vibranium, the hardest metal on earth. We want to use this shield for heavy duty missions that involve bazookas and other explosives. I figured that it might help you against that metal arm of his."

"Are you comparing the strength of that metal arm to the strength of a bazooka or a bomb?" Steve asked him warily, swallowing when Rhodey nodded, "I'll keep that in mind." He added, looking down at the shield. Maybe the thing wasn't such a bad idea after all. In fact, he kind of liked the way it felt to hold it. "Don't interrupt until I say so." Steve insisted, waiting for Rhodey to nod before turning to the door.

"Captain?" Steve stopped with his free hand on the door handle, "Be careful in there."

"Yes sir." Rhodey left him there to gather his thoughts, disappearing into the room next door where Sam was still standing, glaring daggers at the man in the interrogation room. The hallway was dead quiet and Steve could hear his own racing heartbeat clearly. Was this really Bucky? Was Bucky really still alive? And if so, what on earth had happened to him over the past four years? Where had he been and who in all of hell had done this to him? A tight knot formed in Steve's stomach and he tried not to focus on it, dreading that he would have to throw up if he did. He'd never had a strong stomach and _Come on Stevie it's just a little roller coaster! You'll do fine!_

He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the door.  
He was terrified.

What if it wasn't Bucky?

And what if the man in there was Bucky but would never remember him ever again?

He pulled back to shake his head vigorously. This was not the time to think about those type of things! He had to help! Even if this wasn't Bucky, he had come here to do a job and he was going to help this man if it was the last damn thing he did!

With that thought hovering in the forefront of his mind like an anchor, he pushed down on the door handle and slipped inside. He knew that those type of doors could only be opened from the outside, meaning he was locked in with this man now. The air in the room was stale and heavy and he could smell the unmistakable smell of blood. His eyes found the red droplets all over the floor and he frowned.

His body felt frozen on the spot. He was too afraid to move, to make a noise, to breathe but he knew he had to. He could see the tension in the man's shoulders build up- he was obviously not happy about having someone else in the room. Steve watched him carefully, watching for any signs of that big red button being activated in his mind. He edged closer, coming to a standstill next to the broken metal table. There were indents all over it, depicting a hand and imprints obviously made by fingers. Blood was smeared over the surface of the table. What on earth had happened in here?!

"Hello." Steve whispered hoarsely. As the word left his mouth the man erupted into a flurry of quick movements and before he could blink, Steve found himself pinned against the wall next to the door with a cold hand made of metal wrapped around his throat. He would have gasped for air, would have kicked out or tried to pry the hand from his throat. He would have done all of those things if he hadn't looked at the man's face. Dead steel-blue eyes were glaring back at him with a ferocity that made a cold shiver run down Steve's spine. Chapped, red lips were pursed and bent awkwardly into a furious frown. His body was unnaturally still and Steve almost felt like he was towering above him despite Steve being slightly taller than him.

Bucky.

Strong, sharp jawline, unique chin, perfectly shaped lips that could smile like no-one else he'd ever met. Eyes that could light up the darkest night.

It really was Bucky.

Steve's eyes widened and his body went slack again, all his will to fight this man having drained right out of his body.

Bucky. Bucky. Bucky… Bucky! Tears filled his eyes and rested on his lower eyelid in a sparkling line of agony. The blood drained from his face and his body began to tremble. Bucky stared at him, his grip on his throat relentless despite Steve's lack of will to fight back. In fact, it seemed to upset Bucky that Steve was doing nothing to put up a fight.

For a moment, Steve felt like he was being swallowed up by the rage that was rolling off of Bucky in waves but then his mind snapped back to reality and he remembered what he had come here to do.

 _You live for your friends._ He told himself. There was no use in dying now. He wanted to help Bucky didn't he? How was he supposed to do that when dead? And besides, he had just gotten Bucky back. His Bucky! There was no way in hell _anything_ was going to kill him now, not even Bucky himself! His muscles tensed, his body bursting to life and with one power movement, Steve brought the shield up, slamming its sharp edge into the metal arm just below the elbow as hard as he could. The metal plates covering the surface of the arm whirred, shifting to compensate for the blow. The hand was removed from his throat and Steve kicked out, bringing his booted foot down on Bucky's knee. Bucky cried out, the sound sending waves of agony pulsing through Steve. He wanted to wrap his arms around Bucky and apologize! Just keep apologizing and apologizing till Bucky snapped out of it and _wrapped his strong arms around him because winters were cold and Steve got sick so damn quickly._

A flash of metal snapped him out of it and he reflexively lifted the shield in front of his body. With an incredible amount of force, the metal fist was brought down on the shield, sending a loud ringing noise bouncing off the walls and surging into Steve's ears like a needle piercing his eardrum, making him flinch. Bucky flinched too, the pressure lessening for only a moment before his eyes cleared to display nothing but rage and he began pushing against Steve as if he was trying to crush him between his shield and the metal wall. Steve cringed. He wanted to cry out when his arms, his shoulders and his back screamed under the force.

He wasn't strong enough.

Nothing in the world could have prepared him for someone this incredibly strong! Fear coursed through Steve like poison and he wanted to back away even more but he was already being held against the wall. Thousands of possible scenarios ran through his well-trained mind but no matter how plausible a scenario seemed, all of them included seriously injuring Bucky to put him out of commission and Steve couldn't for the life of him convince himself to hurt Bucky any more than he already had. Not Bucky. He had suffered enough. He'd rather take on all of Bucky's rage if it meant he didn't have to hurt his best friend. It felt like Steve's shoulders were about to dislodge from his torso and his back was writhing with jolts of pain that shot up and down his spine. The anger in Bucky's eyes didn't become less with his exertion and Steve began to doubt that Bucky would ever calm down. How was Steve supposed to come out of this without any serious injuries? How was he supposed to help Bucky if this is the way things were going to go from now on? How was he supposed to help someone that was so far gone? Someone that didn't know who he was, didn't recognize his best friend and worst of all- wanted to hurt him?  
Desperation surged through Steve, forcing his mouth open and forcing him to take a deep breath before he yelled at Bucky to, "Snap out of it!" He gritted his teeth for a moment, pushing back against Bucky's fist as hard as he could, "Bucky!" Steve yelled Bucky's name so loudly that the veins in his neck popped out and his voice cracked painfully. Bucky took a few hasty steps back and Steve stumbled forward, not having expected the lack of resistance against his shield. Once he had regained his footing, he held the shield in front of his body, eying Bucky warily. Bucky was staring at him. The anger in his eyes was ebbing, making room for something else, something Steve was desperate to identify but couldn't. Bucky's body wavered and he took another step back, averting his eyes for a moment before looking back at Steve. "Bucky?"  
"Who the hell is Bucky?" Steve's breath hitched at the sound of Bucky's voice. It sounded exactly the same as it had all those years back. Now there was not an inkling of doubt left in Steve's mind whether it really was Bucky or not. Just that Bucky had gone and forgotten everything and that was probably more painful than having been told that Bucky was dead. Knowing that Bucky didn't recognize him, and he clearly didn't, felt to Steve as if he himself had died. He was dead to Bucky and part of him wanted to let Bucky beat him into a coma because of it; because the pain he felt made him want to tear his own body apart to stop it.

He would worry about that later thought because right now, Bucky, his best friend Bucky was standing in front of him and he had every intention of helping him because _I'm with you till the end of the line, pal._

"I'm not here to hurt you." Steve said slowly and the jerk in Bucky's shoulder told him that Bucky was holding back, he was stopping himself from lashing out again. Hope swelled up in Steve's chest and he wanted to reach out and touch him but he knew better, knew that he shouldn't push any boundaries whatsoever. Bucky was like a land mine- ready to tear you into oblivion if you tripped his switch. He had been reduced to one thought: killing; Steve could see it in his eyes, in his body, in the blood splatters on the floor.

Someone had taken Bucky's humanity and had turned him into a weapon. That was the only way Steve could explain it, explain the tormented look on his face and the ghosts of past torture carved into the skin all over his body.

All of it made Steve want to scream until he lost his voice. He wasn't cut out for this! Bucky was beyond suffering from PTSD and maybe he was even beyond repair. He _looked_ like Bucky, sounded like him but Bucky, his best friend was buried somewhere deep in that man's mind, cowering in a corner like a scared child while the weapon had violently and forcefully taken over for one purpose: to murder and survive.

"My name is Steve Rogers." Steve spoke quietly, trying to look past the wary, angry look in Bucky's eyes, trying to find any shred of his best friend in that empty shell of his, "And I'm here to help you."

* * *

Sooo there you go~ Thank you so much for reading and I really hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey dears~ so here you have chapter 3! Enjoy :D**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Steve wrapped his trembling hands around the coffee mug Sam had brought him. He was sitting in the room adjoining the interrogation room, his eyes trained on Bucky who had resumed his sitting position in the corner of the room. "You feeling a little better?" Sam asked Steve after a long, deafening silence. "I think so… I don't know… I honestly don't know."

"I'm really sorry Steve." Sam pulled up a chair to sit next to Steve, "I can't imagine how difficult this is for you." Was he saying that because of the look he'd had on his face while he'd been in there with Bucky or was he saying it because of the way Steve had broken down the moment he was out of the interrogation room? Either way, Steve could understand why the veterans liked to talk to Sam- it _helped._ Without Sam around, Steve would probably have lost his mind a long, long time ago. He realized then that he needed Sam, especially now, while he was facing a nightmare that wasn't about to end any time soon. "And you're sure you want to follow through with this?" Sam asked him and Steve nodded.  
"With every fibre in my body."

Dark red and purple bruises had formed on Steve's throat by now, there where the metal fingers had threatened to crush his trachea. Having been consumed by confusion, anguish and all of the other horrible emotions associated with realizing that Bucky was alive and wrecked, he hadn't noticed that Bucky had been squeezing that tightly. Obviously he had had every intention of killing Steve nice and slowly. "I just… want to know what happened to him to mess him up like this." His voice was hoarse due to the damage Bucky had done to this throat. Sam had told him to stop talking often enough and go see a damn doctor already but Steve refused. It was hard enough to get him to take a break and not barge in there all over again and get another set of bruises from Bucky. Sam had never seen Steve like this. He'd never seen him so desperately driven. It was like all of a sudden, Steve had regained the air he had needed to breathe for so long. "I don't know man." Sam matched Steve's hushed tone of voice, "Whatever it was… part of me doesn't want to find out. It must have been really messed up. I mean I've heard some horrible stuff during the VA sessions but this…" Steve nodded at that. He wished he could share Sam's sentiment about not wanting to know but he felt that he owed it to Bucky to know. That and, maybe if he knew what Bucky had gone through, he would be able to somehow reverse the effects and put his shattered pieces back together again. Bring Bucky back from the nightmare he was stuck in. "He looked right at me and he didn't even know me." Steve breathed, putting the coffee mug down on the table to use his hands to cover his face. He felt old, like he'd aged at least twenty years over the past few hours. His body ached, his throat was dry and sore and his eyes felt like they would after he hadn't slept well for over a month. "I'm sorry buddy." Sam draped his arm across Steve's back in a comforting gesture.

"Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky." Steve muttered.

"I know Steve. I know that you wish he would snap out of it and be the good 'ol Bucky again but… fact is: we don't know if he'll ever be anything like the man you remember. Stuff like this, it can erase an entire person and create a new one." Steve knew how much the truth could hurt, this truth hurting in particular. He wanted to block his ears like a child and pretend like none of this was happening because _how come Bucky didn't tell him that the army had accepted him? He was leaving soon and Steve didn't want Bucky to go! He didn't want to be all alone!_

Steve closed his eyes, forcing the memory back down and sealing it away for as long as he could. Instead he began focusing on the here and now, trying to figure out the best way to help Bucky. Bucky had to be in there somewhere! He was a stubborn jerk! He wouldn't just disappear like that… right? "So what now?" Steve said when his mind didn't bring forth any plans that didn't put his own life at immediate risk.

"Well you're the only one he didn't try to take apart _that_ much." Sam mulled it over, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest while he thought. Steve waited, knowing that Sam knew more about PTSD than Steve ever felt like he would. Then again both of them knew that this wasn't your normal PTSD victim. "At some point in time we're going to have to confront him with what happened to him and what he did as a result." Sam started slowly, turning over every word in his mind before saying it, "That comes way later though. Right now, it's important to make him feel safe. He's still on the defensive. He's hyper vigilant, which isn't that unusual for war veterans. The problem with him though, is that he's aggressive _combined_ with being hyper vigilant. He'll lash out at anything that moves if we don't get him out of his current mindset. We need to get him to power down his fight-or-flight drive a little, get him to relax. His body must be aching like crazy with how tense he's been these days. Once he's calmed down enough to be handled, we could take him to the station's gym and let him beat down on something until he's too exhausted to move. That'll definitely help him. After that we can start with the therapy." It sounded like a good plan, as did any of Sam's plans, but how on earth were they going to get Bucky to relax? He wanted to kill anything that moved! As if sensing his thoughts, Sam sighed, rubbing his temples with his hands. "I got no clue how to start though." He admitted, "But I know that you're going to have to be the one to actually talk to him and stuff."

"You're probably right." Steve nodded, "Is it okay if I try and play on some memories we have together?"

"You can try but I doubt he'll respond at all. Right now, his mind is shutting everything out." Again Steve nodded, picking up his cup and making his way out of the room without a word.

* * *

Twenty minutes later he returned with a burger for Sam, which Sam accepted gratefully, and a plastic bag with more food in it. "You brought him food?" Sam arched an eyebrow at Steve who smiled back wryly. "Well yeah. He's gotta be starving."

"Didn't you hear the part about him refusing to eat?" Sam asked him, recalling the long conversation they'd had with Rhodey before the Colonel left them to it. "I know but these are burgers. Buck loves burgers!" And with that, Steve whirled around on his heel, grabbing his shield with his free hand and marching over to the interrogation room. Sam sighed, picking up the remote on the table and eying the big red emergency button warily. He really hoped that he wouldn't have to use it any time soon. He trusted Steve, damn it he'd trust Steve with his life a thousand times over but Bucky…? This man… well, he wasn't really a man at all, was he?

As soon as Steve was standing in front of the door to the interrogation room, his brave-face fell off and he bit his lip. He put down the plastic bag with food for a second to slip on his shield, once again liking the way it felt to hold. He hadn't gone in to see Bucky ever since he was assaulted the first time, fear playing a huge role in that decision. At the same time, he was desperate to be close to Bucky, to convince himself that Bucky was alive and that he wasn't just dreaming. Most of the time all he wanted to do was touch him to convince himself that Bucky was real but that would undoubtedly earn him broken bones and a hospital bill and, well he didn't want Bucky to snap out of it one day and realize how badly he's hurt Steve. His palms were sweaty so he wiped them off on his dark blue jeans, taking a deep, calming breath before resting his hand on the door handle.

With another shaky breath he opened the door and went inside, closing the door behind him as quickly as he could.

The tension was back in Bucky's shoulders and Steve found his eyes glued to the well-built former soldier. This time he knew how quickly the other man could move so he was prepared, or at least, told himself he was. Steve's body was tense, his muscles coiled together tightly, ready to spring into action at Steve's command. It was so still in the room for a moment that he could hear his drumming heartbeat, feel it in his throat. He parted his lips ever so slightly to let out a calming, soundless breath slowly. As soon as he moved to set down the rustling bag on the floor, Bucky was on his feet. His eyes were alert, anxiety flowing over into aggression within seconds. Steve put down the bag hurriedly before lifting his hands to show that he didn't have anything on him. Bucky's protruding eyes darted between the bag on the floor and Steve for a moment, his breathing evening out gradually. He eyed Steve for a moment longer before deciding that it was just the strange man from earlier. Bucky let out a slow breath, clenching and unclenching his jaw while he waited for Steve to make a move. "Again," Steve spoke quietly, "I'm not here to hurt you Bucky." Bucky's body went rigid, as if he wanted to pounce but then he let out a forced breath, rolling his shoulders to expend some of the tension in his body. His facial expression was unreadable, his eyes as dead as they had been a few hours earlier. Once again Steve noticed how haunted Bucky looked. It made his heart ache and made him want to shake the truth out of Bucky so he could find who did this to him and make them pay dearly. "I'm going to leave that bag there," he gestured to the white plastic bag slowly, "And you can go look what's inside. It's not going to hurt you, don't worry." He stepped to the side slowly, letting Bucky see every part of his body as he did, assuring him that he was no threat whatsoever. Eventually he was standing against the wall opposite to the door, leaving enough space for Bucky to move around without feeling more boxed in than he already did. Bucky continued to glare at him for a moment before his eyes darted to the plastic bag and then back to Steve. "Come on big guy, no one here that's gonna hurt you." Steve tried again, noting the way Bucky's eyebrows furrowed at his change of tone. When Bucky still hadn't budged, Steve let himself slide down against the wall, sitting against the corner of the room. He lifted his shield to lean it against his legs, pulling his knees up to his chest. He did this in an attempt to make himself look small and he also knew that Bucky knew that if Steve were to try and get up to hurt him, Bucky would notice before Steve was on his feet. Seemingly convinced by Steve's peace gesture, Bucky walked over to the plastic bag slowly. His gate was heavy and he tilted off to the left side a little while he waked, the movement reminiscent of the way his shoulders used to sway with confidence while he walked. Steve could see the muscles in Bucky's back flex under the tight red shirt and he once again found himself amazed at how much sheer muscle he had gained over the past four years. Bucky leant down slowly, picking up the plastic bag with his metal hand. He frowned at the rustling sound it made and Steve guessed he must be sensitive to sound. Steve stayed perfectly still and quiet while Bucky moved to his chair to sit down again. He opened the bag once he was seated bringing forth two Styrofoam containers. The smell of hot burgers filled the room and Steve could feel his stomach want to growl. Bucky let the plastic bag drop to the floor next to him, holding one container in each hand, inspecting them with a straight face. "One of them…" Steve cleared his throat, "One of them is for me. I mean, I haven't eaten all day…" Bucky's eyes snapped up to his and Steve held his breath. Realization flashed into Bucky's eyes and he looked down at the containers, finally seeming to know what they entailed. "It doesn't matter which one you give me, they're both the same." Steve added after a long silence. After another few contemplative moments, Bucky put one of the Styrofoam containers on the floor and pushed it over to Steve. He watched it slide across the floor before it bumped against the front of his shield.

Steve let down his shield slowly, stretching his legs out in front of his body and putting the shield down on them face up. Once he'd done that, he put the container on the shield, using it as a table. Bucky watched him warily, his shoulders tensing again, obviously unhappy with how much Steve was moving. Steve popped open the lid, smiling down at the freshly made take-out burger before him. "You used to love these." He heard himself say, "But only when they took off the onions. I made them take off the onions on both because I didn't know which one you would take." He averted his eyes from the burger to Bucky, finding nothing but a vacant stare directed at him. With a heavy-hearted sigh, he turned his attention back to his food and started eating. It took Bucky a while to follow suit. At first all he did was watch Steve, seeming to memorize how Steve ate the burger and the fries before mimicking him and doing the same.

They ate in a comfortable silence. Steve felt so at home in Bucky's familiar presence and yet he had never felt quite so lonely before. It was like he was talking to a phantom, to the man in the moon that would stare down at him but never reply, staying close enough to see but too far away to touch. He wanted to hear Bucky's voice, he wanted to hear Bucky talk to him again the way he used to and _damn it Stevie! Why do you keep having to pick a fight with guys three times your size?! I ain't always gonna be around to bail out your skinny ass!_

Steve put down his half eaten burger, frowning down at it for a moment realizing that his appetite was gone. He pushed the Styrofoam container away a little, carefully, making sure it didn't slide off the dome-shaped shield.

Who was he kidding?

Sure Bucky was back but Bucky wasn't Bucky anymore. He wanted to hope that things would change but a pessimistic voice in the back of his head said to stop being a naïve kid. Every time anyone mentioned Bucky, he'd revert back to that sixteen-year old boy from Brooklyn who would sit in class, doodling in his textbooks and who would pick fights with bullies after school. Grown-up Steve didn't know how to handle this. Grown-up Steve had mournfully accepted that Bucky was gone. Now Bucky was back and his whole world was upside down and in ruins. He was happy that Bucky was back and yet he wasn't- he was suffering! More than he ever had. Bucky was so close to him and yet he had never been farther away and Steve had never felt more _useless._ It was like he was there just to watch, to watch as the world showed him what those four years had done to the person he would throw his life away for at a drop of a hat.  
He let out a sigh, not realizing that this had drawn Bucky's attention back to him.

Bucky eyed Steve, noting the frown on his face and the way his eyes scanned the surface of the shield idly. His body was slightly tense and his breathing was erratic. The man was obviously in pain. His eyes found the deep purple bruises on his throat. He remembered. He did that. He hurt him. He hurt… Steve? Yes, his name was Steve. The name wanted to make him feel something, scratched at something long forgotten but his mind refused to give him the memories associated with blonde hair and blue frustrated him, made him edgy. His hands itched to destroy and his shoulders tensed. He shoved another mouthful of burger into his mouth, chewing it angrily. _God Buck do you have to stuff the thing in your mouth like that? Careful or you'll choke!  
_ His breath hitched and he swallowed his entire mouthful in one go. Pain coursed through his body as if it had taken the place of his blood, making him want to curl forward. No… He wasn't allowed to remember, wasn't allowed to think! When he remembered, they hurt him. They made him scream and scream and scream until his voice gave out. His metal hand found the seat of the chair and he squeezed his hand shut, bending the metal out of shape, crushing it under his strong grip. The weaker material groaned under the force and Bucky caught sight of Steve looking up now. "Buck? Are you alright?" His voice was drenched in concern and Bucky clenched his jaw. Why was he concerned? He had hurt him! He had thought up 214 ways to kill Steve the moment he had walked through the door but yet this man, this stranger, was bringing him food and was _concerned_ about him. No one cared about a weapon! No one! A weapon was made to function and if it didn't function then it was reset! It was reset because it was useless, damaged, broken! _He_ was broken! He was malfunctioning! This hadn't ever happened before- it wasn't supposed to happen! He was thinking! He was feeling!

Blue eyes, blonde hair. Small… no… but yes… so small and fragile and _Bucky I don't need you protecting me! I can look after myself jus' fine y'know?_

Bucky… Bucky?

"Bucky? Are you-." He got up, picked up the chair and hurled it against the wall with as much force as the metal arm gave him. The sound of metal hitting metal jerked him out of it and he flinched back against the wall. His heart began racing, his senses soaring into combat mode. Steve was on his feet, his shield placed across his front to protect him.

Steve watched Bucky with anxious eyes. What had set him off? Steve hadn't done anything and yet Bucky was back to square one. Bucky's eyes were darting around the room, searching it for any threats until they came to rest on Steve… a threat. His shoulders were heaving up and down with his rushed, deep breaths and his hands were both clenched. "You're okay." Steve remembered what Sam had done when he'd had the panic attack, "You're in the New York Police Department. I'm Steve Rogers, your friend, and you… you're James Buchanan Barnes and-."

"Shut up!" Bucky yelled at him, throwing himself at the metal shield in front of Steve like a bull chasing a red cloth, blind with rage. His fist came down on the shield again and he cringed at the sound but didn't relent, pushing with all the force he could muster up. Steve was pushed into the wall again like last time, his free hand clasping onto the side of the shield to hold it in place. The look in Bucky's eyes was frenzied. He looked confused and horrified, like his whole world was closing in on him and he was lashing out aimlessly, trying to gain control over a situation that had long since slipped out of his grasp. "Bucky come on." Steve pleaded and Bucky scowled. His hand shifted, grabbing a hold of the shield, and, with one quick movement, lifting Steve over his head and sending him flying across the room and against the same wall as the chair. Steve landed on top of the chair and table, groaning in pain when the edge of the table dug its way into his back. The shield lay a few feet away, out of his reach and completely forgotten. "I don't remember anything!" Bucky yelled at Steve, rushing over to Steve and yanking him up by his shirt. Steve's arms were draped on the floor numbly. He was too dazed and in too much pain to put up much of a fight. Bucky lifted his metal hand, drawing his arm back to punch and Steve let him. Steve let Bucky bring his fist down on his face over and over and over again because this was his fault. It had to be. It had to be his fault that Bucky turned out like this. He should have been there, right at Bucky's side to protect him. But he was small and sickly, hardly army material. And what had he done the day Bucky left? He had locked himself into his apartment like a sulking child, refusing to come out. It hadn't changed Bucky's mind… he still left. And now he was back and Steve was getting what he deserved because _God damnit Steve open the damn door! Stop makin' this harder for the both of us! You know I gotta leave! I gotta do what's right! I'll be back Stevie. Before you know. Before you know I'll be back and I'll make sure you never gotta be on your own again. Just please open the door so I can say goodbye properly._

But he never did… he never opened that damn door for Bucky…

Tears filled Steve's eyes while Bucky continued to yell at him, accentuating every word he spat out with a skull-crushing punch. "I. Don't. Remember. Anything!" His voice was as rough, cracking at the end of each word and filled with rage. His eyes were crazy. He had lost complete control of himself and had lost his grasp on reality. The only thing he saw was the blood running down Steve's face from his nose and the laceration on his cheek. The skin there was starting to bruise already and millions of tiny spots of blood dotted his previously immaculate cheek. Bucky pulled back his arm again, ready to punch but something shifted in Steve's face and their eyes locked. "That's okay…" He whispered between gasps for air, his parted lips letting blood run into his mouth. The taste made him want to vomit. "I'm gonna help you remember Buck. 'Cause I'm… with you… till the end of the line."

Something jolted through Bucky from head to toe and back and his eyes widened, filling with a fine layer of tears. Emotions that he had forgotten he had bubbled up in him, taking a hold of him like a roaring inferno, making him tremble and bringing something inside of him back to life. Uncomprehensive images flashed through his mind the way they would when he was being wiped. He remembered a scrawny teenager, standing in front of a run-down apartment and _you don't have to go through this on your own Steve. You know that right? 'Cause I'm with ya till the end of the line, pal._

A pained smile. Music. But what did it sound like? A small hand punching him in the shoulder. Did it hurt? What did it feel like? Scuffling in an alley, hurting other men who hurt him. Wanting to hurt them more but he couldn't- wasn't allowed to. He had to look after him, that small guy… he had to make sure he was okay. He was important. More important than hurting people.

Blue eyes, blond hair that always got in his face and damn he was just so tiny and feisty and-.

Steve watched mortification spread over Bucky's features. Recognition sparked into his eyes that were trembling and red from unspoken tears. His mouth hung open and his lips quivered. Steve couldn't wrap his mind around the pure, undiluted amounts of agony that poured out of Bucky's eyes and it made his own heart clench. He wanted to say something but his breath was caught in his throat. When the pain in Bucky's eyes was almost too much to bear and Steve was considering looking away, Bucky drew in a shaky breath, his face contorting with more pain than possibly imaginable while his lips parted again and he said,

"Steve."

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 **There you go~ I really, really hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think! I promise the ff isn't all sad. Happiness will ensure eventually ;)**

 **Thank you so much for sticking wtih the ff! I really hope you'll keep reading :D**


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys! So here you have chapter 4! It's a bit of an emotional plaster after chapter 3. I try to put some quiet moments in in between which I hope you guys don't mind.

Just a quick reminder that this is an AU fanfiction and is not compliant with the movies. I really hope you enjoy chapter 4!

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Chapter 4

The last thing Steve could remember was the door behind them opening and two men rushing in. Bucky had gotten off of Steve immediately and had backed away into the corner like a tiger frightened by fire. Steve had been lifted up carefully and carried out of the room immediately, leaving Bucky in the room on his own with Steve's blood smeared all over his metal hand.

 _Steve._

The sound of music playing far away pulled Steve out of the darkness of unconsciousness. The music confused him and he wondered whether or not he was dreaming. The more he concentrated on it, the closer the music seemed to get until he felt like he had broken the surface and his mind seemed to reconnect to his body. His eyes opened slowly, hesitantly. The bright light streaming in through the window hurt his aching head and he cringed. He kept his eyes narrowed to slits until he finally felt ready to brave the light, opening his eyes all the way and looking around. He was in a cramped room with blue walls. It wasn't a hospital room, he knew those far too well and this wasn't one of them. Whatever it was though, it served to cater for hurt people- people like Steve. He was lying on a soft bed next to a window, bathed in the warm glow of the sun. There was a dark brown wooden beside table next to his bed. A vase with flowers of all shapes and sizes was sitting atop the table, next to a docking station with an iPod safely lodged into its plug. So that's where the music was coming from. It was then that his eyes came to rest on Sam who was sitting in a chair next to Steve's bed, reading a magazine. "What happened?" Steve asked him quietly, cringing when his voice hurt even more than it had before the past incident.

"The exact thing I was trying to avoid when I told you not to go in there." Sam replied coolly, "Your pal lost it and dug into you like he was trying to wipe any traces of you off the face of mother Earth." Steve let his head sink back into his pillow, sighing. It took his concussed brain a while to piece together the shards of memories floating around in his troubled mind. He waited patiently, examining the feint cracks in the ceiling while he waited. He knew that the memory was worth the wait, knew that something important had happened shortly before he lost consciousness.

About five minutes later all of it came back like a violent wave, flushing over him and cleansing his brain of any traces of confusion. Punches that had made his head ring and made him lose his bearings completely. Rage. Uncontrolled, frenzied rage at the fact that it hurt- it hurt to remember. He remembered the overwhelming amount of pain numbing his own body. He remembered his own feelings of anguish, helplessness and heartbreak at what had been so clearly displayed on Bucky's face. He remembered the wish to lose consciousness and never wake up. He remembered his desperate wish to fix the broken look on Bucky's face, wanting to reach out and cup his face and promise that it was okay- that it was going to be okay. He recalled the look of horror on Bucky's face shortly before Buck had said his name. He remembered the _way_ Bucky had said his name.

Steve was sure that Bucky wasn't nearly close to remembering exactly who Steve was or what the two of them had experienced as kids, but something told him that Bucky knew the value Steve had in his life. That was more than Steve ever could have dreamed of. He wasn't dead to Bucky anymore, he was a somebody, the one person Bucky seemed to know. Steve liked to tell himself that that was the reason he hadn't snapped sooner- that somewhere deep in his heart, Bucky had known Steve all along. He'd have to ask Bucky about that when the time was right but right then and there he was more concerned about the damage Bucky had done. "How bad?" Steve croaked, rubbing his throat with one of his big hands as if that would make it stop hurting. "Broke your cheekbone, your nose, two ribs… probably gave you a concussion."

"That's not too bad." Steve tried to joke but Sam shot him a glare that said lengths about how funny Sam thought all of this was. In fact, Steve had never seen Sam that mad before. "You know it'll heal quickly… it always does." Steve tried to pour some water onto the fire but Sam gave him a look that told him that it wasn't helping. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you Steve?" Sam sounded reproachful. Steve averted his eyes for a moment, looking out at the now largely overcast sky with a frown before answering. "I did."

"Then why did you go in there?"  
"Because Bucky would have done the same for me." Steve had said it like it explained everything and in a way, it did. Sam could understand what Steve felt. If it had been Riley in there, damn it Sam would have thrown himself into that hazardous situation without thinking twice about it. He'd probably do it even if Riley had beaten him up as badly as Bucky had Steve. That's when Sam knew that the next question out of Steve's mouth was going to be 'when can I see him?'.

"I just don't wanna lose another friend." Sam admitted, bowing his head and staring down at the article he had been engrossed in before Steve had woken up. "I know Sam." Steve's voice was so earnest; the kind of earnest his voice always was. It made Sam wonder if Steve had ever lied to someone in his entire life. "I know exactly how you feel. Why do you think I'm so desperate to help Bucky? I want to make sure that I don't have to go through losing him again. And Sam?" Sam raised his head to look at Steve who was smiling at him lightly, "You're not gonna lose me. You know I don't die that easily."

"Yeah you're a hardy bastard nowadays." Sam grunted and Steve chuckled, despite how much it hurt to do.

"So when can I see him again?" A grin spread across Sam's face.

"As soon as you're back on your feet I guess. I'd suggest giving the both of you some time to work through things though." Sam closed the magazine and placed it on the bedside table, "Another thing though… You were right." He paused, smirking at the quizzical arch to Steve's blond eyebrows, "He definitely… He remembered you Steve."

* * *

Steve would be lying if he said that his head didn't ache as though he had slammed it into a concrete wall at least a dozen times and that after having waited an entire day before returning to the interrogation room. On top of that, nausea had become his constant companion. He kept wondering whether or not Bucky had been holding back. Something told him that he had. If punching a hole into a cement wall proved to be almost too easy for Bucky, then crushing a skull was probably like snapping a toothpick for him. Steve's neck ached just as much as his face, and his back and ribs were agonizing! Despite it all, and with the help of a handful of pain medication, Steve was once again standing in front of the interrogation room. Rhodey was standing next to him, making his disapproval of this plan clear with the deep frown on his face. It had taken Steve almost half an hour to convince Rhodey to let him see Bucky again. Eventually Sam had chipped in with something helpful which ended up giving Rhodey the last little nudge in the right direction.

Although it had been just over a day since the incident, Steve still felt remarkably shaken by it. He hadn't even been able to sleep properly the night before, knowing that he was going to face Bucky again soon. His entire body was begging him not to go back in there and his mind brought forth all too vivid memories of the pain he had endured under the force of Bucky's frightening metal hand. Never in his life had he felt quite that helpless in the face of an attacker. He had the best training in the world and was incredibly strong himself and yet he stood not an inkling of a chance against Bucky. Part of the familiarity of it made him want to smile. "The shield was left in there?" Steve gestured to the door with his head. When Rhodey nodded slowly, Steve frowned, "Then I'll have to go in without it, won't I?" He didn't wait for a reply from Rhodey, didn't give himself enough time to start questioning his resolve before pushing down on the door handle and slipping inside.

His eyes found the spot between the chair and the table where he had lain and he spotted some blood on the floor. It was strange knowing that it was his blood, stranger even that it didn't shake him up as much as he had expected it to. Bucky was sitting in his corner on the floor, looking older and more broken than he had ever looked. He kept his head bowed and this time, his shoulders were slumped. There was absolutely no tension in Bucky's body whatsoever. His metal arm hung at his side, the wrist bending precariously to let the hand lie on the floor at a strange angle. It was like the fight had been sucked right out of him. If Steve hadn't been more worried about Bucky than he was about himself in that moment, maybe he would have hurried to grab his shield but as things were, his eyes didn't leave Bucky's hunched over form for a second. "Buck?" Bucky's head snapped up, his long hair sticking to the sides of his filthy, sweaty face. His widened eyes took in what Steve looked like and he cringed, biting down on his tongue so hard that it drew blood, gushing into his mouth.

He'd done that.

He'd hurt Steve.

Steve had been right with his assumption that Bucky wasn't quite sure exactly who Steve was. All he knew now was that Steve was _important._ He had to make sure Steve stayed alive; had to protect Steve. But he'd hurt him and he felt like he was being punished again for messing up an assignment. The thing about this pain though, was that regardless of how bad it got, he never went numb because of it. It wasn't his body that was being hurt, it was something else, something _inside_ that ached _._ It made him want to smash his own head into pieces with that metal hand of his.

"Do you remember me?" Steve asked him after another long silence. The sound of his deep voice made Bucky's skin crawl. It wasn't a negative feeling, just something he hadn't been trained to know how to handle. Ignoring it was easier. "You're Steve." Bucky mumbled, averting his eyes once he'd said it. Talking was never something they had encouraged him to do. The only time he spoke was when giving orders to men that were worth even less than he was or when confirming that he had understood what he had to do. But if Steve wanted him to talk, he would talk. "I'm sorry that I set you off yesterday." Steve said. Bucky was looking at Steve like it was all just far too late while Steve… well, Steve was smiling at him like it was never too late. It was overwhelming and it brought forth those same emotions that Bucky didn't know how to deal with. He hadn't felt for so long, so why was he starting to feel now? He wasn't even sure if he wanted to feel.

"It wasn't you." His mouth was working against Bucky's will and it annoyed him but felt so natural that he let it happen. Talking to this man, talking to Steve, felt like the most natural thing on earth, like he had done it for years already, like it was one of his favourite things to do. "Well, I guess it's none of my business anyway." Steve continued to stand in the middle of the room a little awkwardly, "I just want you to know that I'm sorry for how things went yesterday."

"It wasn't you." Bucky repeated monotonously, grinding the fingers of his left hand together absent-mindedly. Steve nodded, not wanting to aggravate Bucky. He was astounded by how much Bucky was talking to him and it confirmed Sam's statement from earlier: he knew him.

"How are you feeling Bucky?"

"I don't know how to answer that."

"Is there anything you want? I'm sure I can get you something."

"I don't know how to answer that."

"Are you hungry?" Steve tried a different approach and Bucky nodded, "Do you want me to get you something to eat?" Bucky's brow furrowed and he looked around the room. There was something in his eyes, maybe longing. It reminded Steve of the look the tigers would have at the zoo. They would pace back and forth in their exhibits with that same longing gaze, wishing they could run free and stretch their legs. "Do you want to come with me?" Steve asked. The soldier blinked, looking at Steve like he couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. "There's one condition though." Steve added and Bucky nodded. There were always conditions, he was good with conditions- they trained him to be. "You aren't allowed to hurt anyone." Bucky frowned. Not hurting anyone was probably one of the toughest conditions he'd gotten in a very long time. More often than not his body would just respond on its own, the years of training kicking in like an autopilot of sorts. He didn't know if he could control himself well enough not to hurt anyone and yet he found himself nodding. A few seconds later the door opened and Bucky was on his feet. With two large steps, he was standing between Steve and the man, glaring dagger at him. His hands wanted to reach for his knives but he knew that they weren't there anymore. "It's okay Bucky." Steve assured him, "Colonel, next time, if it's not too much to ask…" He scratched his cheek a little sheepishly, "Could you knock?"

"Right." Rhodey nodded, offering Steve and Bucky an apologetic look before his face straightened out again, "Captain can I talk to you out here for a second?" Bucky recognized the man. He was one of the two who had come to drag Steve out the day before.

"Sure. Buck I'll be back just now okay?" Bucky didn't respond but instead kept glaring at the man at the door with an intensity that could probably kill someone. Steve hurried past Bucky and out of the door as quickly as he could without crying out in pain when his ribs complained. Once the door was closed, Rhodey turned to frown at Steve. "Taking him out?" Steve had totally forgotten that there were people watching from the room next door. "Make him feel safe. That's one of the steps we need to take." Steve clung onto the protocol, knowing that it was his best shot at convincing Rhodey of his plan, "There's no way we'll make him feel safe by keeping him in that room for the rest of his life. Bucky recognized me and you saw that he listened to me about the condition. We have to bring him back to reality, give him a lifeline to hold onto. This is me doing that. He needs to learn that other people aren't bad. He shouldn't start clinging to me." Regardless of how much Steve actually wanted that…

"And where are you thinking of taking him?" Rhodey asked him gruffly, shoving his hands into the pockets of the navy blue pair of pants he was wearing. "Down to the burger place around the corner."

"Outside?"

"Yes."

"Outside of the police station?"

"Yes."

"You're making him face other humans?"

"I am." The Colonel's eyes narrowed and Steve held his breath expectantly. It took Rhodey quite some time to come up with a response to that while Steve was left to wait hopefully. "Someone will fetch the burgers." Rhodey turned to look at Steve again, having been in the middle of pacing up and down the hallway, "You will stay in the park where there's enough space for Barnes not to feel threatened by anything. I hope you are aware of the fact that we don't know anything about his triggers yet so keep your eyes out for those."

"I will sir." Steve nodded, "I promise nothing will happen."

"I hope not. He might be Sergeant Barnes but that doesn't mean he isn't whatever the people that held him captive made him. We've had him for less than a week; they had him for almost four years- keep that in mind too. He could singlehandedly kill a group of grown men and you're taking him into a park with children. I hope you are aware of the risks involved." Steve nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He tried not to think about Bucky hurting a child, tried not to think about the possibility that he'd done something like that before. As things were, all he knew was that Bucky had been held captive, tortured and probably forced to do horrible things judging by his strength and combat abilities. "I'll go talk to Sam. Wait for him to talk to you before letting Barnes out." Rhodey sighed, turning and walking over to the other room while Steve tried to push away the thought of Bucky killing a defenceless child while wearing the same cold glare he had worn the first time he had attacked Steve.

Five minutes later Sam came sauntering out of the observation room, holding out a black hoodie for Steve to take. Rhodey followed suit, nodding to the two men before making his way to his office briskly, leaving the two to discuss the rest of Steve's plan. "This is insane; you know that right?" Sam asked him rhetorically, "But you know the guy and I kind of think that your approach is gonna achieve way more than anything written in any book."

"Thank you Sam." Steve let his gratitude pour into his voice, his face bent into the expression that made him look like an excessively thankful Golden Retriever. Sam smiled at him, nodding in acknowledgement. "So what can I get the two of you?"

"Two burgers without onions with fries and two cokes."

"Roger that Captain." Sam saluted Steve, making the taller man laugh lightly, "Give Barnes that to wear." He gestured to the hoodie with an index finger, "Don't want him drawing too much attention to himself with that arm of his. Oh and another thing? Send me a text every now and then so I know everything's still fine and I don't have to call for help." Sam strode down the corridor without looking back, whistling a tune to himself as we went. Steve looked down at the hoodie, wondering where Sam had gotten it from before shaking off that thought and turning around to go fetch Bucky.

He opened the door to the interrogation room all the way, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at Bucky who was watching him warily. "You ready to go Buck?" He asked and Bucky nodded, "Put this on over your shirt alright?" Bucky caught the hoodie Steve had thrown to him, examining it before pulling it over carefully. He looked uncomfortable in it, like it constricted his movements in some way. Steve noticed that the material was tighter over Bucky's left shoulder and he made a mental note to pay attention to that when it was time to buy him new clothes.

It took quite some time before Bucky made his way across the cramped room and into the corridor. His eyes were darting around constantly, a symptom of his hyper-vigilance. Although they had him relaxed in the interrogation room, all of this was new and strange and he had to make sure that there were no threats around. "Sam, a friend of mine is getting the burgers so you don't have to be so close to people. There's a really nice park across the road from the police station that I'm sure you'll like." Bucky didn't give Steve much of a response, instead waited for instructions on what to do. When Steve turned around with a sigh to walk ahead of Bucky, Bucky followed. Everyone in the police station had heard all about the instable war veteran James Barnes and behaved accordingly. Most people stopped talking and stared while others tried to avoid looking at him at all costs, afraid of drawing his attention. Steve continued to keep up an easy flow of words though, ignoring the stares and telling Bucky about random things that had happened to him during Bucky's absence. "And well, I dated her for a while but Sharon, although she's really sweet and all… it just didn't make sense, you know?" He finished just as they had reached the sliding doors at the front of the police station, "You aren't gonna bolt on me are you?" He turned to look at Bucky who looked like he had just snapped out of a little daydream. His eyes were soft for only a moment before hardening back into their dead stare. "No." He affirmed, shoving his left hand into the pocket of the black hoodie.

"Good." Steve smiled at him before turning and leading the way outside, "Just trust me Buck, nothing's gonna happen to you while I'm around." Just like the day before, the sky was overcast and Steve thought it was probably better that way. There were less people around the park, most of them having stayed home in fear of rain. There were more cars on the road though and he noticed Bucky jerk at the sound of screeching tires and horns. He wanted to place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him but he didn't know how Bucky responded to physical contact so he left it. "You're okay. I know it's loud but nothing's gonna hurt you out here." Steve assured him, "We need to cross the road to get to the park and then we'll wait for Sam to bring us the burgers. The noise from the cars isn't half as bad behind the trees so just try and hold out for a second." He walked ahead of Bucky, praying that the slightly shorter man would just follow him, that he wasn't stuck in a flashback due to the loud noises. He had forgotten to ask Sam how he would get Bucky out of a flashback like that without setting him off. He regretted it now but he figured that he'd find a way. He stopped at a pedestrian crossing, pleased to find Bucky draw up next to him. While they waited for their robot to turn green, Bucky took the opportunity to look around. Steve noticed him drawing in deeper breaths, obviously enjoying the fresher air. Their robot turned green and the cars heading their way stopped behind the white line. Bucky eyed them distrustfully but followed Steve across the road with only a few convincing words from Steve needed.

They settled down on one of the benches in a quieter part of the park. He had been here with Sam before so he knew that Sam would find them. "It's nice out isn't it?" Steve asked quietly but once again, Bucky didn't respond. Deflated, Steve leant back against the bench and brought out his phone to text Sam that they were in the park now.

Talking used to be so easy with Bucky. They would talk and laugh for hours until Steve was laughing so hard that he could feel an asthma attack come along and he had to somehow get Bucky to _shut up 'cause I'm 'bout a die ya jerk!_

"You don't remember anything from before that arm, do you?" Steve heard himself ask and he bowed his head, not wanting to see the look on Bucky's face when he answered. "No." His head sunk a little farther and he closed his eyes, clenching his jaw so hard that his teeth ground together, "Steve." Bucky said and Steve forced himself to look up at his best friend, or, what was left of him. Bucky was watching him, his eyebrows furrowing ever the slightest bit. "I'm sorry," Steve muttered, "It's just… it's difficult to deal with. I have all these memories of you but you hardly remember who I am."

"I know who you are… you're Steve."

"Then what's my second name?" Steve pressed, trying to prove to Bucky and to himself that things just weren't that easy! He was pretending to be strong, pretending to be fine with all of this for Bucky's sake. Hell, all Steve ever did was for Bucky's sake. He thought back to what the elderly man had said a few days back, having told Steve to live his life for the two of them. Now Steve realized that that's all Steve had ever done, even before Bucky left with the army. He'd lived his life for the two of them all along. That's why his life had made no sense without Bucky. "I don't know what your second name is." Bucky finally gave up and Steve closed his eyes to compose himself. He wanted to cry. He wanted to curl into Bucky's side and wail for all he was worth. This was all just so _painful_ and difficult. He was carrying the load for the two of them and Steve wasn't sure he was cut out for such a heavy load. He could feel the foundation underneath his feet crack and he knew that it would eventually give way, yanking the ground out from beneath him. He couldn't afford to let that happen, not while he was the one keeping Bucky from falling.

* * *

The two sat in silence until Bucky spotted a man approaching and tensed up visibly. Alerted by Bucky's change in posture, Steve scanned the horizon and found Sam walking towards them hesitantly with a plastic bag wound around his wrist. His eyes were trained on Bucky, much in the same way the latter's eyes were fixed on him. "That's Sam." Steve explained, "He's my friend who's bringing us food. He's not going to hurt you." What Steve said helped a little but not enough to release the spring-like tension in Bucky's shoulders. Sam stopped on Steve's side of the bench, holding out the plastic bag for Steve to take. "Two burgers without onions, fries and two large cokes." He recited the order, smirking when Steve gave him a thankful grin.

"You're a lifesaver Sam! Thank you so much!" He put the bag down next to him, making sure the drinks were standing upright before letting go of the straps "Bucky, this is Sam. Sam, this is Bucky." He introduced the two and Sam nodded in acknowledgement while Bucky continued to stare at him with icy eyes. Steve wanted to sigh. "See this is how he treats everyone that's not you." Sam pointed out, taking a step to the side when Bucky tensed up a little more, "So anyway… just let me know every once in a while, that things are okay, alright?"

"Sure I will. Why don't you go to a coffee shop somewhere close and take a break? When's the last time you were outside?"

"Good question buddy. My Mustang's already gathering dust with how long it's been standing in front of that police station." Sam hummed, "I think I'll go find myself a nice place that sells croissants. Croissants are good." He turned to Bucky, "You should try them some time." With that he turned around on his heel and marched off, holding up his phone in a silent reminder for Steve to text him.

Bucky only relaxed again once Sam was almost completely out of sight. "He's a good guy you know?" Steve muttered in Sam's defence, fishing out Bucky's Styrofoam container and his drink and putting them down on the bench between the two of them for Bucky to take when he was ready, "He helps veterans with PTSD like you. He spends a lot of time with them, trying to make things easier for them. He even organizes service dogs for some of them. His friends Natasha and Clint, who are also my friends by the way, run a place that trains dogs and people for security firms and they have someone specialized in service dog training." When Bucky still didn't respond, Steve bit down on his lip, chewing it anxiously. It hurt Steve to see Bucky like this. It hurt so incredibly much! It was like all he was, was alive; he wasn't _living_. There was a huge difference between being alive and actually living and this showed Steve just how big the difference really was. He had so much he wanted to tell Bucky; four years' worth of things that were just dying to be told but not like this, not when he could just as well have been talking to someone in a coma. He wanted to see that charming smile of Bucky's, wanted to hear his laugh, wanted to hear him just talk and talk the way he used to; but whoever _they_ were, they'd put a muzzle on him like he was some kind of monster and had burnt the command to keep quiet onto his heart as a constant reminder.

Before he started eating, he texted Sam a quick smiley to let him know that everything was okay. Half-heartedly, he fished out his burger and shoved most of it into his mouth at once, wanting to get all of it over with before another wave of nausea had the chance to ruin his minimal appetite. Next to him, Bucky was eating a little more slowly, watching Steve from the corner of his eye. Steve swallowed the lump of food in one go but regretted it immediately. He had forgotten about the fact that his throat was still sore from being strangled. He let out a low gurgle when pain surged through his entire neck and it felt like the muscles in charge of forcing the food down, were cramping up. He began coughing, choking on the food that had now successfully gotten lodged in his throat. He was so preoccupied with trying to stop himself from coughing while simultaneously choking, that he didn't notice Bucky lean over. He was holding his drink in his right hand, using his left to raise Steve's chin. Startled, Steve wanted to pull back but Bucky held onto his chin tightly and with a groan Steve gave in. Bucky pushed the straw of his coke through Steve's lips before uttering a short "Drink." Steve fought down the urge to cough just long enough to take a big sip of coke and swallow it. "Again." Bucky instructed and Steve nodded numbly, taking one sip after the other. The liquid began pushing down against the food and forced it further down, sending shivers of pain racing over Steve's skin as if he were suffering from a bad flu. As soon as his throat was free, he leant forward, clasping onto his throat with both hands. "Damn… that really hurt. Thanks for helping me out there, Buck!" He gasped, taking deep breaths to convince himself that he was no longer choking.

"Your throat hurts." It wasn't a question, more of a statement and Steve nodded, knowing that there was no point in hiding it. The bruises on his throat had gotten worse and let's not start on the ones on his face. "I did that." Bucky added so quietly that Steve almost missed it.

"Hey don't worry about it pal, you were scared and you didn't know any better. I'm not mad at you for it or anything."

"But I did it… I hurt you Steve." Bucky argued, clenching his left hand into a tight fist. Steve could see that he was getting riled up again and a riled up Bucky who still didn't know enough to develop common sense was incredibly dangerous. He tried to think of anything to say or ask to distract him from the topic at hand, not knowing of anything else to do to diffuse his quick temper. "Do you think you want to try a burger with onions next?" Bucky looked up at him, puzzled for a moment due to the abrupt change in topic, "I mean, you know? So you can check if you still don't like onions."

"What else does he-, do I… like?" Steve's face lit up immediately and he turned to face Bucky completely, his meal forgotten. He told Bucky about how he preferred summer to winter, how he loved to go swimming. He told him that he liked plums, especially the ones that old Miss Carter had in her garden. They would sometimes help her out in her garden and she would give them a whole bag of plums in return. Bucky would always keep the entire bag on his lap while they watched TV afterwards and Steve would hardly ever get his fair share of them. He told him that he loved dancing and that he sometimes used to drink too much before apologizing profusely because _Stevie I'm just no good. I'm sorry pal, I'm no good at all.  
_ He told him about the endless winters where Bucky would keep him warm in a desperate attempt to keep him from getting sick again. "I got sick a lot. But no matter how sick I was, you were always there for me though. 'Kept sitting by my bedside, putting cold rags on my forehead to bring down my fever." He told him about the hot summer months where they would buy cheap ice-cream that really didn't taste like anything but that was so nice and cold. He told him about how often Steve got into fights when he saw someone be rude to a woman or generally mean or disrespectful. He never stood a chance, Steve told him, laughing at the memory. "But you were always there to bail me out. You'd lecture me for hours afterwards while you fixed up my wounds. I was hopeless." Bucky had listened the entire time, a distant hue to his eyes while he tried to recall everything Steve was so fondly describing. All of a sudden his eyes widened slightly and he turned his head to look at Steve who stopped talking immediately.

"Grant." He said, "Your second name is Grant."

* * *

And there you have it! I really hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Hey guys! So sorry it took me so long. This week has been absolutely crazy at work! Thank you so much for all your support and your reviews! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

No matter how painful all of this was, Steve was constantly rewarded by the small steps that Bucky took. He still wasn't smiling and he wasn't talking as much as Steve but he was relaxing a lot more. They began exposing him to all sorts of different sounds and situations, noting down his triggers and actively avoiding or seeking them out for therapeutic purposes. None of his triggers had been too bad yet, though that was because Bucky still hadn't told them about what had been done to him and thus they couldn't have possibly known what his biggest trigger would end up being…

Fragments of memories came back to him slowly, some of them painfully and Bucky would run them by Steve to check if they were real or just another senseless dream brought forth by his healing mind.

"I'm so glad they no longer keep you in that interrogation room." Steve confessed, sitting down on the couch in the living area of the two-roomed flat that Bucky could now call his temporary home. It was located in an apartment block next to the police station. The block belonged to the police and was where they housed relatives of inmates or employees that were working at the police station for a while on a case and didn't actually live in New York. Steve had pretty much moved in with Bucky, not because Bucky had asked him to, but because it just sort of happened. When Steve witnessed the first of Bucky's violent nightmares, he had decided to stick around as much as possible to keep Bucky distracted. Bucky would sometimes become distant, caught in a memory that would make him break out in a cold sweat and tremble. When that happened, Steve always managed to snap Bucky out of it, rescuing him from a barrage of images that Bucky would much rather forget. Yes, Bucky was struggling but Steve firmly believed that he was well on his way to maybe one day being able to live by himself and actually figure out what made him happy. Steve himself didn't even know what made him happy anymore, just that when he was with Bucky, he felt as close to being happy as he had in absolute years.

Bucky sat down next to Steve with a mug of what Steve identified as coffee in his left hand. Steve had explained to him how the coffee machine worked that morning. Bucky had always been a quick learner so it didn't take long for him to catch on. Over the past days Bucky had been watching a lot of TV, catching up on the four years he missed so it came as no surprise when Bucky's right hand picked up the remote and turned the TV on. The two of them fell into a comfortable silence while they watched, Steve determining what they watched and Bucky going along with it, sipping at his coffee occasionally.

Steve's attention was abruptly diverted from the TV and he jumped when he heard something smash. When he looked at Bucky, he saw that he was looking down at his metal hand. The cup the hand had been holding was now lying on the floor in shattered pieces and the steaming coffee was spilt all over his hand and the floor. "What happened? Are you okay?" Steve asked him worriedly, trying to think back to what had been on TV, if something had set him off. "I don't know." Bucky admitted, looking puzzled. He rotated his left arm slowly a few times, clenching and unclenching his hand. The arm would jerk during those movements and the plates would shift loudly. Judging by the frown on Bucky's face, that wasn't very normal. "Is it malfunctioning?" Steve asked him and Bucky nodded, "Do you… have anyone that could look at it for you?" It was a stupid question really and Steve knew it. A strange look crossed Bucky's face and he got up, moving to the kitchen without a word to get things to clean up the mess.

While Bucky was busy cleaning, Steve got out his phone to text Sam, asking if he knew of someone that knew enough about prosthetics and mechanics to be able to help Bucky.

It didn't take long for both of them to realize that the condition of the arm wasn't anything that could stay the way it was for long. His arm would jerk, breaking things and almost hitting Steve on numerous occasions throughout the early afternoon. "Sam knows a guy." Steve finally worked up the courage to address the topic after another hour of struggling with the arm. Bucky's right hand was clasping his left wrist in a futile attempt to keep the arm still. "He could look at your arm for you?" It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that that was the last thing that Bucky really wanted to do. Steve worried about the dark look on his face, worried that Bucky might not take too kindly to people tinkering with his arm. He still didn't know to what extent Bucky even felt things with the arm, if he could feel anything at all. He had spilt fresh coffee over the metal hand and hadn't even batted an eyelid. Still, Steve knew that regardless of how much Bucky didn't want people touching his arm, _something_ had to be done about the glitch. "Trust me, okay? He's a good guy. He's worked with all sorts of mechanical prosthetics so he's pretty much the only guy we know who could help you. Just trust me Buck." He said it again, pleadingly this time and Bucky bowed his head, his long brown hair curtaining his face. "When?" Bucky asked him, his voice sounding lower and rougher than usual. "This afternoon?"

"Understood" Bucky got up and walked to his bedroom, leaving Steve in the living room.

* * *

Their appointment with Tony Stark was at four o'clock. Steve and Bucky met Sam in front of a huge tower in the middle of New York. Bucky still hadn't been successfully desensitised when it came to the noise of the city so he was tense, his eyes darting around as per usual. He'd never been this far into the city and Steve could imagine that Bucky was struggling to process all of the things going on around him. His left arm was pressed to his side and his hand was shoved into the pocket of the green bomber jacket he was wearing over a black t-shirt. Steve walked beside Bucky, watching the other's movements and his mood carefully. They had quickly realized that Steve somehow had the authority to defuse Bucky's aggressive moods. Sometimes it would backfire and Steve would end up pinned to something or with Bucky's hand wrapped around his arm or throat. More often than not though, Steve managed to draw Bucky's attention to him and the large man would begin to relax the longer he listened to Steve talk. "You okay Bucky?"

"I'm functional." He assured Steve in that same monotonous tone he would always talk in. His words made Steve's heart clench. On top of that, Steve missed Bucky's expressive language and his colourful descriptions. He missed everything about him- he missed _Bucky_.

Sam made sure to walk behind Bucky, giving Bucky the sense of security that no one could sneak up behind him. They entered the building like that, walking up to a fancy reception counter made metal and glass. A large 'S' was engraved into the metal plating of the countertop. "How can I help you?" The lady behind the counter eyed the three men with a welcoming smile. Her eyes lingered on Bucky for a moment before she turned her undivided attention to Steve and her smile widened. "We're here to see Mr. Stark. For the arm. Um… he said we should… We have an appointment." Steve stuttered, feeling himself go red under her mildly suggestive gaze. "Ah! You must be Mr. Rogers, am I right?" When Steve nodded, she typed something out on the computer, pressed a button off to the side and smiled up at them again, "I've notified Mr. Stark of your arrival. Jarvis will let you know where you are to go. Have a pleasant stay gentleman." Steve was about to ask who Jarvis was, when a polite British voice spoke up, filling the room. Bucky didn't seem to like this much, his eyes darting around to find the source, zeroing in on a loudspeaker in the ceiling. "Hello. I am Jarvis. I will be guiding you through the tower to Mr. Stark." The AI paused for a moment before continuing, "Mr. Stark is in his laboratory at the moment. You have the full clearance level so I will be taking you directly to see him." Jarvis instructed them to take one of the elevators in the back of the entrance hall.

As soon as they were inside the elevator and the doors had closed, Bucky tensed notably, backing up against the back wall of the elevator. His hands clenched, as did his jaw. "It's okay Buck. I know it's a small space but we'll be out of here soon." Steve tried to calm him down but his breathing was erratic and his gaze distant. Sam took a step back, trying to give Bucky as much space as he possibly could. "Bucky can you hear me?" Sam spoke up and Bucky blinked, looking at Sam, "Close your eyes." Sam told him quietly and Bucky did as he was told when Steve gave him a light nod, "Now breathe in slowly. Imagine you're in the park by the police station. What do you see?"

"Trees." Bucky answered Sam slowly, his brows furrowing slightly while he concentrated on the image in his mind and not on the buzzing of the elevator, "Steve is there too."

"I am?" Steve asked in surprise and Bucky nodded his head, "That's nice." Steve added a little bashfully, not sure what else he should say. Every time Bucky showed Steve that Steve meant something to him, it made Steve want to wrap his arms around Bucky in the tightest hug imaginable and cling onto him, afraid that he would disappear again at any moment. He couldn't do that though. No one was allowed to touch Bucky, not even Steve.

Before they knew it, they were out of the elevator and Bucky was free from the cramped space. He didn't relax though. He kept scanning his surroundings uneasily and he eyed the large windows that made up the walls of the tower. There was no way to escape a building like this without possibly dying. They were too far up. If the enemy came from below, they were trapped anyway. Jarvis had brought them right to the top of the tower. A flight of stairs led down to the lab from a living area that overlooked New York. Stark Tower was one of the tallest buildings in the city. Sam thought it spoke lengths about the size of the man's ego. Tony was arrogant, excessively eccentric and slightly difficult to deal with but he was a genius and probably the only man who could fix Bucky's arm. As soon as they had made it down the stairs, Jarvis announced their arrival to the room. Bucky's eyes immediately started tracking a movement in the corner of the room and soon a man wearing a long sleeved grey shirt came scrambling over to them. He was uncoordinated and weak, thought Bucky, hardly a threat. Tony's beard was well trimmed, his black hair a mess. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing a smudge of grease on his lower arm. "Hey." He greeted them casually, "Cap." He looked at Steve, "Robocop and… well I haven't thought of a nice nickname for you yet." Tony admitted, smiling at Sam when the latter rolled his eyes. He turned on his heel in a whirl of movement and Steve noticed Bucky's body move slightly before freezing while his arms tensed, stopping himself from moving. He knew Bucky didn't fare well under erratic, spontaneous people and Tony was both. The quick movements made Bucky want to lash out and as it was, Bucky was already tense enough. It made Steve worry. "Just sit down over there and take your shirt off." Tony waved to a metal framed chair with thick armrests but Buck froze, staring at the chair with widened eyes. His jaw was set and his shoulders were so tense that Steve could see the muscles quiver in the back of his neck. "Bucky?" When Steve stepped around to look at Bucky's face, he was alarmed by the incredibly distant look in his best friend's eyes. Bucky had had flashbacks before but normally Steve would be able to snap him out of them simply by moving in front of him or talking to him. He wanted to wave his hands in front of Bucky's eyes to check whether Bucky was still with them in any way but even that could set him off like a nuclear rocket. Beads of sweat were starting to form on Bucky's forehead and Steve noticed the faint tremble in his right arm. "Sam. I think he's gone." Steve mumbled quietly and Sam nodded, moving to the side of the room to watch Bucky carefully. "What set him off?" Sam asked.

"The chair I think." Steve followed Bucky's line of sight, his eyes coming to rest on the gleaming chair. With one astoundingly quick movement, Tony was standing in front of Bucky with a light smirk on his face. A surge of panic rose up in Steve but the need to move slowly around Bucky prevented him from getting to them before Tony spoke up. "Come on big guy, the chair's not gonna eat ya." He heard Tony say.

"No don't!" Steve cried out, just when Tony reached out to take Bucky's wrist to lead him over to the chair. As soon as Tony's hand brushed the skin on Bucky's right hand, Bucky jerked into action, his body acting completely of its own accord. Steve pushed Tony aside roughly, closing his eyes when Bucky's hand wrapped around his neck instead of Tony's. "What part of PTSD patient did you not understand Stark?!" He heard Sam yell and not even that got the usually so sound-sensitive Bucky back to reality. For a moment it seemed like their surroundings disappeared. It was only Steve and Bucky. Except, it wasn't Bucky. It was someone else… His eyes were cold, calculated and his face darkly vacant. Then the ground disappeared from underneath Steve and his stomach lurched when he was lifted into the air with a frightening amount of force. Two seconds later, the ground was rushing towards him again and he was slammed into the tiled floor, back first. Winded, Steve only managed to open his mouth in an attempt to scream but there was no more air in his lungs left to use. For a moment it felt like his lungs couldn't inflate anymore and Bucky was still squeezing down on Steve's throat with agonizing force. Panic tried to get a grip on him, tried to make him attempt to hyperventilate but he managed to force down the urge. He couldn't breathe anyway and panicking was going to make all of this even worse. Tears stung at Steve's eyes while he was forced to stare at Bucky's empty face. There was no recognition in his eyes whatsoever and Steve knew that Bucky was more than far gone. "Buck." He forced out, making a choking noise when he tried to draw in a breath. His lungs burnt and his stomach cramped. His back was sending jolts of pain up his spine and his face felt like it was about to split open due to the pressure building up inside of him. His ribs, that hadn't completely healed yet, ached, and made him want to wrap his arms around his torso to shield them. Black spots began appearing at the periphery of his vision and he gritted his teeth, clinging onto his conscious state with all he had left in him. Bucky was kneeling over him, his long brown hair almost brushing Steve's forehead. Steve placed a hand on each of his shoulders, pushing Bucky up and back as much as he could. Bucky weighed a hell of a lot but with one strong push, he managed to throw Bucky off a little. Steve noticed Bucky's arm malfunction slightly, noticing that the plates were shifting incorrectly with a loud, grating whir. Tony must have noticed it too because he threw a screwdriver in such a way that it landed directly next to the two. Without thinking, Steve picked up the screwdriver and rammed the sharp end right into Bucky's arm, there where the plates had failed to close up the gaps. To Steve's surprise and horror, Bucky cried out, letting go and backing away immediately. Sam was next to Steve in seconds, yanking the larger man to his feet roughly, the two stumbling a little in the process. "Bucky stop!" Steve yelled at him desperately and Bucky froze, huffing and panting due to the pain in his mechanical arm. His right hand was clasping onto the spot where the screwdriver had been while Steve held onto his aching throat. "Buck it's me." Steve lowered his voice, swallowing the dire need to break down and sob, "It's me… Steve."

"Steve." Bucky echoed quietly, his eyes softening and his shoulders slumping, "Steve." He repeated slowly, "What happened?" A dazed look crossed his face when he looked at his arm and then at Steve whose body was curled into itself with pain, making Steve look small and vulnerable. He gave Steve a quick once over and the dazed expression on his face cleared away immediately, making space for a frown that hardened his features again. "What did I do?"

"You don't have to sit in the chair if you don't want to Buck." Steve avoided an answer, forcing down the impulse to sit down and hold his aching body, "I'm sure you can sit in a different chair or even lie down, right Tony?" Tony nodded, his dark brown eyes panning between Bucky and Steve with a hint of fascination in them. "Steve." Bucky was frowning.

"Come on Bucky, how about this one?" Steve limped over to something that looked similar to a cheap hospital bed. Bucky followed him with two quick strides before placing his flesh hand on Steve's shoulders to stop him. The other man whirled around, surprised and startled by the fact that Bucky was actually touching him, bumping into the bed with his lower back. When Bucky saw the alarmed look in Steve's bright blue eyes, he removed his hand from Steve immediately and forced himself to look at the wall behind Steve instead until Steve relaxed. "Steve please…" Steve heard the plea in Bucky's normally so indifferent sounding voice but he couldn't get himself to talk about what Bucky had just done. The thought alone made him want to run out of the room, find a corner, sit down and sob for hours. He wanted to trust Bucky, he really did but Bucky wasn't alone in his head. There was someone else… someone who wanted nothing more than to eliminate any threat in his vicinity. Bucky didn't have full control over his body or his mind and until that was the case, Steve wasn't going to be able to let his guard down. Steve bowed his head, shoving his trembling hands into the pockets of his jeans to stop Bucky from seeing how unnerved he really was.

"I hurt you again, didn't I?" When Steve cringed, Bucky had to avert his eyes. He wanted to break something. He wanted to tear something into the tiniest pieces imaginable, preferably himself; yes… that's what should be destroyed, the thing that kept hurting Steve. Kept hurting _Stevie, I hate it when you get hurt! You don't deserve it! Really ya don't but it's like you actually enjoy getting punched! Can't ya jus' stop picking a fight for one damn week?_

"I'm sorry Stevie." Steve's heart skipped a beat at the nickname and his face softened immediately. Damn it, he was that sixteen-year-old kid back in Brooklyn again, feeling all small around Bucky; big, strong Bucky Barnes. "It's okay Buck." The smile he smiled made Bucky feel strange. It wasn't the broken smile that Bucky had gotten used to seeing. It was whole and bright and made Bucky feel more alive than he could ever remember feeling. "It's not fine. I'm no good Stevie." He didn't know where he knew those words from, but they felt natural to say and the look on Steve's face affirmed that it was something he probably used to say a lot. Part of him wanted to cringe at the fact that he was openly objecting to something Steve had just said. His programming objected to his actions, the fear of being punished lingering somewhere in the back of his mind. "Lie down." Steve nodded to the bed and Bucky complied, doing what Steve asked him to after taking off his jacket and his shirt, making sure that his right side was facing the wall and not his left side. Steve moved to stand by Bucky's head, smiling down at Bucky reassuringly. "You don't have good memories of this, do you?" Sam asked Bucky who shook his head, frowning, "Well we're here to help you." Sam added, "Keep telling yourself that. We're not the people who did this to you." Bucky let his eyes settle on Steve's face. He studied his strong jaw and the hint of stubble that dotted Steve's skin there. He inspected his cheekbones, fanned by his long lashes and something told him that he had freckles. He _remembered_ that Steve had freckles on his nose and cheeks. They were faint and you could only really see them when you looked carefully. Also, Bucky recalled that Steve's eyes weren't a pure blue. They had a little bit of green in them as well, right around the pupil. He couldn't see his eyes clearly from where he was lying but his mind brought forth a vivid memory of Steve's eyes. The familiarity of those eyes filled Bucky with a deep sense of peace and his body became apathetic. He distracted himself by trying to see what else he could remember about Steve.

He didn't even flinch when Tony strapped down his left arm for safety reasons. He watched the way Steve kept a careful eye on what Tony was doing. It was going to be okay. Steve was there, Steve was good.

"If it hurts, just say so and we'll stop immediately." Steve said quietly and Bucky nodded.

Yes, Steve was so, so _good_.

His fingers twitched when Tony removed some of the plates to look at the inside of the arm. The mechanic hummed every now and then, remarking about how advanced and amazing this piece of machinery was and whether he couldn't just keep the arm. Of course Steve was quick to turn it down on Bucky's behalf and Bucky found that he didn't mind Steve talking for him. The longer Tony worked on the arm, the more excited he got and eventually Sam had to advise Tony to move more slowly and Tony did, not wanting a repeat of earlier.

The longer the procedure went on without a prick or even a sense of discomfort, the more Bucky began relaxing. Sam had been right: they were there to help him. He wasn't going to come out of this exhausted from screaming. He wasn't going to feel his body writhe in pain. He was safe. He was with Steve.

Tony did a scan on the arm to see the wiring, afraid of doing more damage than being helpful if he didn't know exactly what the inside of the arm looked like. "Hey Steve…" Steve frowned, moving from Bucky to Tony who was staring at something on his tablet with furrowed brows, "Look at this." A mortified frown spread across Steve's face the moment he saw what had disconcerted Tony that much and he had to look away, covering his mouth with his hand as if he was trying not to either vomit or scream. "What's up?" Sam joined them, having a similar reaction to Steve when he saw what was displayed on the tablet's screen. "When did they put this arm on?" Tony asked Bucky who only reluctantly took his eyes off of Steve.

"When I first arrived there. I lost my arm before that. I don't remember when or how." Steve was having trouble pulling himself together. He knew that Bucky had been through hell but this was… this was worse than he had expected. He forced his shaky legs to take him back to Bucky's head. He didn't look at Bucky, which bothered the soldier a lot. He felt like he was being punished for something. Had he said something wrong? Was Steve upset with him? As if sensing Bucky's unease, Steve spoke up quietly, so quietly that Sam and Tony had to strain their ears to hear it. "They drilled it into you Buck. They drilled that freaking arm into your torso."

"I know. I felt them do it." The fact that Bucky said it like it was the most natural thing in the world made Steve want to yell at him. He wanted to shake him and tell him that nothing of what was done to him was in any bloody way normal! He had been tortured, used as a human guinea pig for some monster that wanted to see how far he had to push a human in order to strip them of their humanity. "Oh my god Bucky…" Steve breathed, closing his eyes and bowing his head, unable to bear the indifferent look on Bucky's face any longer. "I'm sorry Cap but it gets worse." Tony got up, walking up to the bed and looking down at Bucky's bare chest. Thick scar tissue ran along the area where the metal was fused with his skin. "What d'ya mean Stark?" Sam drew up next to Tony, eying Steve who looked like he was about to be sick. All the blood had left his face and he was trembling slightly. "They melted the two together." He pointed at the extensive scar, wise enough not to touch it, "They melted his skin and the metal together; welded it together so to speak." Steve's breath hitched notably and Sam hurried over with a spare stool just in time to stop Steve from sinking to the ground. Steve bent forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Bucky wanted to sit up to face Steve but the strap around his left arm stopped him from sitting up. For a short moment he considered just tearing it off the table but he knew that that would probably upset Steve more. Instead, he let his head back down, concentrating on the sound of Steve's shallow, uneven breathing instead. He wanted to say his name, as if that could somehow calm Steve. It calmed Bucky to have Steve say his name but somehow Bucky didn't think that that was going to work for the blonde. His flesh hand gripped the edge of the bed, his fingers sliding into the narrow gap between the wall and the bed he was lying on. "Stevie…" The name slipped out of Bucky's mouth despite his initial reservations and he noticed Steve's breath slow down a little. "Sorry." Steve apologized and Bucky heard the stool shift before Steve's face entered his field of vision again, "I'm supposed to be here for you. You're the one facing your nightmares so I shouldn't be… doing this…" Steve gestured to himself. Words bubbled up in Bucky's mind, different variations of sassy, cheeky comments he could use as a retort but he stopped himself with a frown, not understanding where those words were coming from. Instead he fixed his eyes on Steve again, watching the frown slowly fade from the other man's features. Although the frown faded, the troubled, sad look in his eyes remained. It made Bucky want to reach out for Steve to comfort him but even if he wasn't strapped down, Bucky didn't know how to comfort someone. He wondered why Steve wanted to be there for him. He didn't understand. Why would someone want to be there for a weapon?

"Well now that I know what your arm looks like, I can finally get to work!" Tony sang, pulling over the stool Steve had previously occupied and sitting down next to the bed. His eyes took in the wiring of the arm hungrily and an exhilarated smile found its way onto his handsome face while he began tinkering away…

"He can sense pressure and his arm gives him a reading on temperature but he doesn't actually _feel_ the temperature." Tony sat back, looking thoughtful, "And of course he can sense damage which is expressed in pain. The arm converts the signals received into electrical impulses similar to the ones used in the body. The nerve endings in his shoulder have been fused with the artificial nerves in the arm in an intricate process. Must have taken them hours to do. It's pretty amazing actually. The only thing that makes no sense is that the pain seems to be amplified by the receptors in the arm."

"Are you trying to tell me that they purposefully made the arm more sensitive to damage in comparison to his normal arm?" Steve asked Tony, keeping his eyes trained on Bucky who had long since closed his eyes. Steve had chosen to stay standing throughout the repairs, finding it better to be able to watch Bucky's face for any signs of pain instead of dwelling too much on the past, regardless of how difficult it was. He might not be able to do anything about the pain that Bucky had experienced in the past, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to do everything in his power to make sure that Bucky didn't have to suffer more than absolutely necessary. "Yup. Only internal damage though and with an exterior casing like his," he tapped against the metal plates with his screwdriver, "it's difficult enough to get through to the inside." Tony shook his head, "Just don't get what kind of bastards would do all of this to a human being."

"I hope for their sake that I never find out." Steve growled and Bucky's eyes opened at that, "Can you fix it?" He added, smiling down at Bucky when he saw that he was looking up at him with a gentle frown. It was like all the rage he had expressed a moment ago vanished when he had looked at Bucky. "I can make it less sensitive yes and of course fix the rest of the arm." Tony promised, going to work at that immediately.

* * *

In total it took Tony an hour to fix the arm. It was quite a feat considering that the arm was the most modern piece of technology that Tony Stark had ever seen. In fact, it inspired quite a few new ideas for prosthetics that he wanted to develop. "You do know that your buddy is carrying a weapon of mass destruction with him, right?" Tony stated once he'd finished, wiping his sweaty hands off on a dirty rag that he had stuffed into his black jeans' pocket. "It is whatever Bucky makes it." Steve insisted, "As long as he's the one using it, it's in good hands."

Tony pulled a face but didn't say anything. Instead he busied himself with closing the arm up again and ten minutes later, Bucky was sitting up and rotating his arm curiously. Steve watched the arm recalibrate for a moment. The metal plates shifted smoothly, adjusting to Bucky's movements while hardly making a sound as they did. Obviously the arm had needed a fix for a while now.

"How's it feel?" Steve asked him and Bucky stopped moving, looking up at Steve with the ghost of a smile on his face. "It feels better than it ever has."

"Well I don't mean to brag… but I _am_ a genius." Tony grinned and Sam and Steve laughed at that. Bucky didn't. They thanked him profusely, saying their goodbyes afterwards and making their way out of the tower. Tony had told them that Bucky was free to stop by whenever he had any problems with the arm and Steve knew that it was because of how fascinated Tony was by the arm. Either way, it was a win-win situation and Steve was grateful that Natasha had recommended Tony Stark.

Steve walked out of the building ahead of Bucky to make sure that no-one bumped into him by mistake. As soon as Bucky was out of the sliding doors though, instead of worrying about his surroundings and the terrible noise made by the cars, he stretched out his left arm and took a hold of Steve's shoulder, stopping him with a firm but not possessive grip. Steve turned around slowly, positively surprised by the fact that Bucky had touched him twice now. "What's up Buck?" He asked him, noting how relaxed Bucky's body was. The only thing that made him worry was the urgent look in his steel-blue eyes. "How are you?" The words felt strange to say for Bucky but he was desperate to know the answer. He couldn't remember the last time he was actually concerned for someone's well-being. Usually he didn't care if someone was dead or alive and he also didn't mind being the one to stomp them out. It simply hadn't been something he'd ever thought about. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his arm more than he usually did all of a sudden. Was he nervous? Was that what nervousness felt like? Or was it unease? He couldn't tell. "I'm fine." Steve assured him with an endearing smile, "It doesn't hurt as badly as it did when it first happened. Besides, I've had way worse than this Buck, don't worry about me."

 _But I do._ The thought crossed his mind but instead of voicing it, he swallowed, nodding his head and waiting for Steve to lead the way and tell him what to do.

* * *

There you go! So slowly but surely Steve is starting to learn about what happened to Bucky! How do you guys think he's gonna handle that?

I really hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'll be posting the next one soon~

Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to leave a review to let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

Hey guys! So here you have the next chapter! I honestly keep losing track of time so I forget to post the next chapter. Sorry!  
Just a quick warning: there is some violence in this one, just for those who don't like that kind of stuff.  
Anyway I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think and thank you so much for sticking with this ff this far! It really means a lot to me!

* * *

Chapter 6

"Bucky snap out of it!" Steve screamed, stumbling back in a desperate attempt to get away from the much stronger man. The sun was beating down on him, making his skin burn. Two bullets in each leg stopped him from getting up and running. The pain was radiating through him as if it had a pulse of its own. He only managed to kick at the steaming asphalt weakly, trying to move away faster, scraping open the palms of his hands as he tried to escape. Where had Bucky gotten a gun from anyway?! What had happened? How had they gotten here?

A quiet whimper escaped his throat when Bucky kept coming closer and closer. His metal arm swayed back and forth slowly, gleaming in the sun's light menacingly. His metal hand was completely covered in Steve's blood. There was absolutely no recognition in Bucky's eyes and Steve knew that there was not even the slightest shred of Bucky left in his mind. The other man had taken over. The weapon was now in charge. He had tried everything- telling Bucky about things they'd gone through, yelled at him. He begged him to stop but nothing that usually worked on Bucky seemed to work this time. Steve couldn't remember what had set Bucky off but he didn't have the luxury to worry about something like that. All he cared about was getting out of this alive. The man that Bucky's kidnappers had forced into his mind was nothing short of a monster. His gaze was cold and calculated, telling tales of other victims he'd drained the life out of without a moment of hesitance. To this man, killing was like folding a piece of paper, send a text to a friend or watching TV. Steve was nothing to this man, just another one of his countless victims. He held out his hand in a pathetic attempt at keeping the soldier at arm's length but the Asset took a hold of Steve's arm and jerked it sideways, dislocating his shoulder before breaking the arm clean in half. A bloodcurdling scream ripped through Steve's throat, sobs trailing after the scream like an afterthought. His arm now hung limply at his side and he was paralyzed by the pain resonating from his arm, spreading through his entire body like an electrical current running through his veins. "Bucky please."

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

"You! You're Bucky damn it!"

"Weapons don't have names." Bucky sneered, sitting down on Steve's abdomen, straddling him and forcing him to lie down. He wrapped his smooth metal hand around Steve's throat and squeezed. He kept squeezing, harder and harder until… Steve's eyes widened and he began coughing uncontrollably. His body jerked involuntarily and warm, thick blood filled his mouth. The cracking sound his throat had made rung in his ears while tears filled his eyes. He wanted to make a sound, _anything,_ one last plea for Bucky to come back to him but his vocal chords didn't respond. He couldn't feel them anymore. It felt like he was choking and drowning in blood at the same time, blood gurgling up into his mouth from his throat before running down into his lungs.

He was dying.

Bucky was killing him. Bucky… his Bucky was killing him.

Steve jolted up to sit upright on the couch, a wry cry escaping his mouth. He was panting uncontrollably and it took his mind a moment to realize that he could breathe fine again. The air around him was cool. He was surrounded by a soft blanket with the smooth leather couch beneath him.  
A nightmare… he had been dreaming.  
He covered his sweat-covered face with his shaking hands, taking in a long breath and letting it out slowly. The apartment around him was dark and quiet. He could hear sirens outside, reminding him that he was still in the heart of New York. He was safe. Bucky wasn't going to kill him. "Thank goodness it was just a dream." He gasped, placing his hand over his throat to make sure that it was still in one piece. The panic cleared from his mind slowly, like poison that the body had to break down. Once he had calmed down enough to take in his surroundings more clearly, he noticed a movement in the periphery of his vision. Something was gleaming in the feint light the moon threw into the living room of Bucky's apartment. "Bucky…?" The gleam moved again and he caught sight of a red star. The sight made him shiver, images from his nightmare flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinked. This wasn't the monster from his dreams though, this was Bucky. He kept telling himself that over and over again to stop himself from breaking into a panic all over again. "You had a nightmare." Bucky stated. Steve could only just make out his outlines and it made him nervous, especially after the dream he'd just had. He was afraid to see Bucky's face, afraid that his eyes would be just as lifeless as the ones in his dream. For a brief moment, he was back in the Brooklyn from five years ago, shortly before Bucky had received his marching orders. He was painfully reminded of the way Bucky had laughed, the way his eyes always sparkled and that a smile was never far from his lips.  
Somewhere in the back of his mind Steve saw Bucky reach out to switch on the lamp that stood on a low wooden table next to the couch. Steve snapped back to reality abruptly and reached out before his mind had caught up to his actions. His hand wrapped around Bucky's right wrist and Steve was suddenly pushed down against the sofa, Bucky's hand pressing down on his chest. The pressure wasn't alarming, in fact, Steve found it grounding. Instead of letting go of Bucky to allow him the space to retreat, Steve left his hand wrapped around the other man's wrist, keeping his hand firmly in place. He had expected Bucky to lash out but he didn't, instead, seemed frozen on the spot. Steve began feeling the warmth from Bucky's hand seep through the skin-tight shirt Steve was wearing. It felt good against his skin. Something in his chest tightened and he realized how much he had missed Bucky's warm touch. "You okay Bucky?" Steve asked him quietly, imagining his face hovering somewhere above his own. He could hear Bucky breathe in and out evenly, the sound filling the gaping silence in the apartment. The side of the couch had dipped a little and Steve reckoned that Bucky was leaning his one knee there. "I am." Bucky replied, "What about you?"

"Not sure." Steve replied honestly. He caught sight of the gleaming metal moving once again and moments later, a bright light illuminated the room. Usually Steve would have to squint but Bucky's body was leaning over him, shielding him from the bright glow of the lamp. Shadows darkened Bucky's face, making him look slightly menacing. His messy brown hair hung loosely at the sides of his face. The black tank top he was wearing exposed his entire metal arm and even part of the scaring. It hugged his body tightly, showing off his toned muscles as well. "I'm sorry I grabbed you." Steve said, keeping his eyes on Bucky's. Bucky hummed a reply, taking a hold of the soft material under his right hand and yanking Steve up by his shirt, positioning him to sit next to Bucky. "Been a while since I've been manhandled like that." Steve laughed and Bucky grunted. Steve watched for a smile hopefully but Bucky wasn't quite ready for that yet. His body was completely relaxed though, which Steve took as a win.  
Steve's body was starting to recover from the excessively realistic dream now too and he sunk back into the couch with a heavy sigh. For a while Steve let the silence settle on the room, listening to the faint noises of the city until he felt awkward for staying quiet. "Did I wake you?" He asked Bucky who nodded, turning his head to look at Steve, "I'm sorry."

"A nightmare was bound to wake me up sometime during the night anyway."

"You never tell me about your nightmares." Steve wanted to punch himself when he realized that he'd said that out loud. The last thing he wanted was for Bucky to feel like he was being put under pressure. "You never ask." Bucky's reply forced Steve to do a double-take. For a moment, the blond wasn't quite sure he'd heard right but when he saw the feint ghost of amusement in Bucky's eyes, he realized that his friend really had just said what he'd said. He closed his gaping mouth, clearing his throat and looking down at his lap, composing his facial expression again. The green blanket he had covered himself with was now tangled somewhere between Bucky and him like a soft, fluffy chain linking the two men together. "If I asked, would you tell me?"

"I don't know."

"They're about your time in that place?"

"Hydra." Bucky spoke quietly, "The place I was held was a Hydra facility in Russia."

"Wait…"

No. No. No! Not Hydra! Please not _the_ Hydra! Steve had dealt with Hydra before on one of his missions with the SWAT team. They were an organization that had originated in Nazi Germany during the second World War. He remembered reading about their scientists that kept trying to find new ways to create outrageous weapons. They did a lot of experimenting on humans, even in the United States. Steve had stormed one of their facilities close to Mexico with his team, clearing out the place and freeing the prisoners. What he'd seen there had been enough to give him nightmares for months to come after that. Even now he sometimes dreamt about the things he'd seen there.  
In response to the horrific memories, the hairs on the back of Steve's neck stood up and he rid himself of his thoughts of Hydra quickly, desperately focusing on Bucky instead. "They had you all this time?" Steve asked and Bucky nodded. Bucky was kneading his knuckles slightly, showing that he was on edge. Steve would soon find out that Bucky wasn't tense because of what Hydra had done to him, instead he was tense because he was telling someone _about_ Hydra. His mind was yelling at him, telling him not to give away any of Hydra's secrets. He had to fight with himself to open his mind and talk. He was talking to Steve, he reminded himself, Steve was good. "The first thing I remember is waking up in a surgery room surrounded by men wearing lab coats. One of them, I think his name was Zola, he told me something… I don't remember what though. Something about the procedure having started already. I blacked out shortly after that when they began cutting into what was left of my left arm." The memory didn't seem to shake Bucky in the slightest and Steve had to admit, it was slightly disconcerting. If someone asked Steve to talk about what he'd seen in that Hydra facility, he'd break out in a cold sweat and begin shaking. Bucky though had said it the way he used to read passages from their physics textbook in class all those years back. What else had they done to him to make the memory of having his mangled arm amputated without anaesthesia seem harmless? "My dreams are about the things they did to me and the things I did. The people I killed…" Bucky finally answered Steve's initial question, "I don't remember much of the time in between. I was put under a lot. The memories come back in bursts." Steve nodded. He wanted to know. He wanted to know everything despite how much it was going to hurt him to know. He didn't want Bucky to be alone with his nightmares and his memories anymore. Bucky had been on his own with everything long enough- four long, gruelling years long. Bucky deserved to have a Sam, to know that someone knew about his anguish and was trying to understand what that had done to him. At the same time, Steve wasn't quite sure that he could handle hearing about what Bucky had gone through under the psychotic ideas harboured by Hydra.

Hydra…

"I think I've heard enough for one night." Steve admitted shakily, "Thanks for telling me some of that though." Knowing that Bucky had been held captive by Hydra was enough to shake Steve to the bone. Steve was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Bucky move until his warm, slightly rough hand moved over the much smoother skin on Steve's throat. Steve froze, sucking in a startled breath of air. Bucky stayed silent for a moment, assessing the look on Steve's face before saying, "Your bruises are healing." He letting his calloused fingers trace the blue and red marks all over Steve's throat. Steve didn't quite know what to do. He hadn't been prepared for Bucky to do something like that and he had been even less prepared for how flustering it was. A frown spread across his face and Bucky interpreted it incorrectly, moving his hand away from Steve. "Sorry." Steve shook his head, "I was just thinking."

"You frown a lot when you think." Bucky agreed.

"You used to call it my thinking face." Steve laughed, smiling fondly at the memory of how Bucky used to pull his leg and _Stevie if you keep frowning like that your face is gonna freeze like that. Ya think girls want a guy that looks all grumpy the whole time?_

"I'd just tell you to shup up. Saying that one of us has to think, at least." Steve grinned and Bucky let out a sharp breath of air- the closest he'd get to laughing. Like a miracle in itself, Steve watched the corners of Bucky's mouth twitch upwards in a hardly visible smile. "You were a punk." Bucky muttered and Steve bowed his head, laughing. "And you were a jerk." The conversation made Steve's chest swell up with joy, and he became slightly giddy, "Man I've missed you Buck." He admitted wistfully and Bucky's eyes found his immediately. "Are you tired Steve?" Bucky asked him and Steve nodded, a little disheartened at Bucky's failure to reciprocate the sentiment. Bucky moved to sit at the very edge of the couch, removing the plush cushion from behind his back and placing it on his lap. Steve watching him curiously, unsure of what Bucky was getting at. Bucky pulled the blanket out from underneath Steve with an ease that made Steve a little jealous. Then, he instructed Steve to lie down. Steve hesitated, assessing Bucky's body language before following his prompts and lying with his head resting on the cushion on Bucky's lap. Memories of cold winters and a warm body pressed against his for warmth came back into existence and he sighed, snuggling up to Bucky unthinkingly. Bucky smelled exactly as he had all those years back: a mixture of a smell that reminded him of lavender, sweat and his deodorant which he would vary per occasion. He smelt warm and welcoming and, if strong could be described through a smell, then Bucky would smell like he was strong, ready to protect Steve whenever Steve needed him to. It was comforting and Steve caught himself taking deep breaths, letting the smell take him back to happier days. The brunet spread the blanket out over Steve's long body and it engulfed him completely, the soft material brushing over Steve's bare feet in the gentlest of caresses. "I'll make sure you're safe." Bucky muttered, averting his eyes when Steve looked up at him.

"Why are you doing this Bucky?" Steve couldn't help but ask. Bucky usually avoided physical contact. It made him aggressive. In the past two days though, starting with his behaviour at Tony's lab, Bucky hadn't been as hesitant to touch Steve anymore. "When they touched me, they did it to hurt me. When I touched, I did it to kill. Your touch doesn't hurt though and I don't want to hurt you." Bucky tried to put his jumbled thoughts into words, "We used to do something like this. I think… I can't remember. I feel like we did. I can trust you, I can touch you. You won't hurt me." Steve smiled. It was probably the greatest compliment Bucky had ever made him up until then. He felt his cheeks warm up and his smile widen at the thought. Bucky draped his right arm over Steve's chest protectively and let his left arm hang over the edge of the couch. Steve wanted to stay awake to make sure that Bucky wasn't bored but as soon as his eyes shut, he was gone, to the feeling of Bucky's warm arm holding him safely in place.

* * *

The next morning Steve got a call from Rhodey- an urgent call. He hurried to get ready, skidding across the laminated wooden flooring, agitating Bucky who was trying to focus on the TV to stop himself from pinning Steve to a wall to get him to _stop moving._ Bucky had already gotten ready hours ago at around six. Steve had slept until 7:30 when Bucky had shoved Steve's ringing phone in his face with a disapproving frown.

With the taste of his black coffee still lingering on his tongue, Steve stuffed a slice of toast into his mouth before slipping over his brown leather jacket and signalling for Bucky to follow him. Bucky was good at that- following orders. Orders made him feel safe. Orders were easy to follow; choices were hard to make. Fear of being punished for making the wrong choices still lingered deep within his code and it made his skin crawl.

They made their way over to the police station, Steve making sure to calm his pace as not to rile Bucky up even more. The sun was shining again but for some reason Steve felt cold. When they entered the station, Sam and Rhodey were already waiting for them. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air and when Steve looked around, he saw several officers with steaming cups in their hands. "You look horrible Steve." Sam commented, "Didn't sleep too well?"

"I woke up during the night, that's all." Steve shrugged, unconsciously edging a little closer to Bucky.

"I have something I would like to discuss with you Captain Rogers." Rhodey muttered and Steve didn't miss the grave undertone in his voice. He looked troubled and on-edge. His dark eyes flicked to Bucky for a moment before resting on Steve again. "Without Sergeant Barnes." Steve wanted to protest but Sam gave him a look that shook Steve up enough to put him back into neutral. "Is it okay for you to wait here for a moment Bucky?" Steve asked him and Bucky just stared at him for a moment until Steve added, "I'd like for you to wait here please." Bucky nodded and looked around to find a seat to sit down on, settling down in the waiting area of the police station.

Steve followed the men to Rhodey's office down the hall but not before shooting a look at Bucky over his shoulder. Bucky was staring out the window with that same vacant expression on his face.

Rhodey closed the dark brown wooden door behind Sam and Steve. The two of them sat down in the black leather seats in front of the Colonel's desk. A bonsai tree stood in the corner next to the large bookshelf behind Rhodey. The smell of paper and books wafted towards Steve as the Rhodey moved around his desk to sit down. A few reward certificates were hung up on the white walls. "So what's this about?" Steve asked, noticing Sam shift. Obviously, Sam knew more about this than Steve did. "Ever since Barnes was transferred to our police station we've been conducting research into finding out where he had been held over the past four years." Steve's chest tightened and he shifted a little. His jeans pulled against the leather uncomfortably but he forced down the urge to wiggle around some more. "We haven't found much… but what we did find… let's just say it was alarming." Rhodey opened the file that was lying on his desk, handing Steve a photograph. Steve looking at it for a moment before looking up at Rhodey with a puzzled expression, unable to see what this photo had to do with Bucky. It was a picture of a factory building. Railings lined the numerous platforms all over the side of the building. "Look carefully. What do you see?" Rhodey asked, pointing towards the picture with his eyes and a gentle nod of his head. Steve combed over the photo with his eyes until they caught sight of something horribly familiar that made his gut twist. Amongst the yellow railing, he saw a red star blended in to the background. When he inspected it a little more closely, he could just make out the metal arm clutching onto a sniper. "They called him the Winter Soldier." Rhodey continued and Steve held his breath, "He's been credited with over two dozen assassinations over the past four years. Every time someone died, it just so happened to be someone Hydra didn't want around anymore."

"So he's killed 24 people?" At Steve's question, Sam bowed his head, letting out a shaky breath. The former pararescuer was kneading his hands together as if they were a form of stress ball. Steve shot a glance at Sam before his eyes locked with those of the Colonel. "He's only killed 24 people, right?" He added a little frantically. He could feel his heartbeat quicken and his leg began bobbing up and down nervously.

"I wish I could tell you that there were only 24 Captain. The reason he's stayed hidden for so long, is because no one's ever seen him and those who did, didn't live long enough to tell anyone about it. He never left any witnesses and when I mean any witnesses, I mean _any_... witnesses." A cold shiver ran through Steve's body when the weight of what Rhodey had just said, sunk in, weighing down on him with unbearable strength. Bucky… no, the… _Winter_ _Soldier_ had killed anyone around, regardless of age or gender.

He had most likely killed children.

"But there…" A puzzled frown spread across Steve's face while he struggled to keep his breathing even, "There has to be some sort of explanation for this though. Bucky would never…" Steve's face contorted and he clenched his hands into tight fists, bowing his head, "Bucky would never do stuff like that!"

"He didn't have a choice." Sam took over for Rhodey, putting his arm around Steve's shoulders comfortingly. Steve could feel Sam's fingertips press into his right shoulder slightly and he focused on that for a moment to ground himself. He felt like he was about to drown in what Rhodey had just told him. Panic clawed at his insides like a monster born in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to run out of Rhodey's office, out of the police station and never come back. This had to be some sort ofnightmare! But then, Steve knew it wasn't. He knew that he wouldn't wake up to Bucky who was going to comfort him, showing him that it had just been a dream. This was reality and it was tearing Steve apart, atom after atom of his shaking body.  
"Barnes didn't know what he was doing." Sam added after a short pause.

"What do you mean?" Steve looked between the two men with pleading eyes, wishing that someone could make all of this alright, make him not feel like the image he had had of Bucky had just been shattered into a million, irreparable pieces, lying on the floor, cutting into the soles of his feet.

"Ever since the end of the Second World War, Hydra has been working on a machine that can wipe people's memories, molding them into weapons." Rhodey explained, checking his facts with the ones written down in the file in front of him before continuing his explanation, "The soldier is strapped to a metal chair and a contraption is lowered over their head. It sends electrical currents through the person's head, causing temporary and sometimes permanent amnesia."

"Does that hurt?" Steve asked, focusing on pushing down the panic that was taking over more and more of his mind as the seconds ticked by.

"Very." Rhodey affirmed, forced to watch the strongest man he knew, Captain Steven Rogers, fall apart in front of him, "Once the person is… wiped… they use a certain series of trigger words to revert the soldier back into a pre-programmed state of mind."

"Trigger words?" Steve chipped in.

"Yes. He was kept in Siberia so I assume his will be in Russian. At some point we need to ask him about them." Rhodey said wtih a sigh, looking back down at the file that held so much information about Bucky, so many secrets, so many nightmares, "The soldier becomes a mindless weapon that follows orders." Rhodey continued gravely, "It takes at least a year of constant torture and repressive techniques to make a person forget who they are and to strip them of their humanity completely. He followed orders without questioning what he was doing. He killed without even thinking about it or hesitating for a second. When he started thinking or feeling again, they'd simply wipe him again and start over. When he was not of use, they put him into a coma until they had a new assignment for him." By the time Rhodey was done, a blank look had crossed Steve's face. Rhodey knew that expression. He had seen it in a lot of battle-scarred soldiers who had seen and experienced far too much. The expression only lasted a moment though, before the mask Steve was wearing cracked and he bowed his head, hiding his face in his hands while he sobbed…

* * *

Forty minutes later, when Steve had finally managed to pull himself together again, he looked Rhodey in the eye and said, "I'm not going to let him go to jail for something he was forced to do." Yes, Steve was willing to fight the government for Bucky. Hell, even after everything Steve had just found out, he was willing to fight the entire world if it suddenly decided that it no longer liked Bucky. "He isn't being held accountable for anything he's done in the past." Rhodey assured Steve, smiling when the man sunk into his chair notably, "He wasn't in a clear state of mind- far from it actually. We have been running enough psychological tests on him to know that Bucky is damaged and has gone through severe torture and thus will not be held accountable for his actions in the past. He was being controlled."

"Thank you so much Colonel!" Steve sighed, "I'll make sure that Bucky gets better! I promise!"

"Good." Rhodey nodded, "Because I'm afraid he _will_ be held accountable if anything happens now." Steve nodded understandingly. It made sense. Bucky was a lot clearer now and the night before had shown Steve that he was starting to learn how to control himself better. "Are you okay Steve?" Sam shook him a little, his arm still around the other's broad shoulders. "I don't know." Steve rubbed his tired eyes. He wasn't fine, but telling Sam that wasn't going to change a thing about how he felt. He'd had his moment, he had been allowed to cry and now it was time to get back to work and make sure that Bucky got better. It didn't matter that Steve felt numb inside, dead. It didn't matter that his stomach ached and that he felt like he was about to throw up. "I'm glad that I finally know what happened to Bucky but to know how much they hurt him and to know that he did those things… that his hands did those things… I just…" He shook his head, forcing back his tears, "I don't know what to think and feel. It's the most horrifying thing I've ever heard and that with Bucky of all people… oh my goodness…" He let out another sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face as if he had only just woken up.

"I can imagine that this must be incredibly difficult for you." Rhodey gave him a sympathetic frown, "It's a miracle that Barnes even survived four years of that treatment but Steve," Steve sat up a little straighter, not used to Rhodey addressing him with his first name, "I know we can help him. Don't give up on him yet."

"I won't. I'm never going to give up on Bucky." Steve assured him, earning a smile from both Sam and the Colonel.

Obviously the new information about Bucky had shaken Steve up even more than he had originally thought. When he got up from the chair he had been sitting in, his legs shook and Sam had to support him to stop him from sinking back into the chair. They walked along the corridor slowly, Steve leaning his hand against the smooth, cold wall for stability while Sam's arm stayed wrapped around Steve's lower torso firmly. Once they got to the entrance and his eyes fell on Bucky, a surge of pain shot through him and he bent over, vomiting all over the floor.

* * *

So there you go! I felt so sorry for Steve in this chapter :(

I really hope you enjoyed it though!

Let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! I am so sorry for taking so long to upload! I literally just completely lost track of time! These past weeks have been insane! Thank you for your reviews up until now! It really means a lot to me! Here you have chapter 7!**  
 **Also, I'm probably going to upload another AU Stucky fanfiction that I finished a few months back as well if you guys want to read it.**

 **Anywho, happy reading~**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

The house was a quaint little house. It looked like something that could have come straight out of a movie what with its white panelled walls and balcony out front. Flowers bloomed all over the garden and in neat rows in front of the porch. The stones Bucky and Steve had helped her put down years ago led the way from the white picket fence all the way to the narrow stairs leading up to the balcony and to the front door. She had added some flowerpots to the balcony, along with a small white bench that had yellow sunflower cushions on it. He could picture her sitting on that bench, reading a good book while people-watching during the busy morning. The window to the kitchen was open and the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted towards him, wanting to make him smile. This would be a happy occasion if only the circumstances were different. He'd have jogged along that stone path, up to the porch and _come on Stevie! You're so slow! I bet she's waitin' for us already!_

He opened the small garden gate and made his way along the path to the balcony slowly. He peered through the window next to the front door but he couldn't spot her yet. He knocked on the door twice before stepping back and running his large hand through his dead straight hair in a nervous habit. "Coming!" Came the singsong reply from inside. Steve listened to her footsteps before the door was opened, at first only a crack and then all the way. He stood there for a moment, feeling nothing short of awkward before two frail arms were spread out to wrap him in a tight hug. He gladly accepted the warm embrace, letting his head down on her shoulder with a heavy-hearted sigh. She smelt of roses with a hint of lavender, a perfume she liked to wear. Her grey hair was pinned up, the black pins standing in strong contrast to her white locks. She had aged since the last time Steve had seen her and he felt guilty for the fact that he'd waited so long to visit her again. After Bucky was gone, Steve had visited her as seldom as possible- her house held too many once fond and now excruciatingly painful memories of a time where everything had been better. "Steve." She let him go, giving him a critical once over, "I haven't seen you in such a long time. You don't look well."

"Hello to you too Pegs." He gave her a crooked smile that only made her frown deepen. She took a hold of his hand, tugging him indoors determinedly as if she were afraid that if she didn't, he'd just turn and leave again. Steve knew that all he had to do was lean back and that would stop Peggy Carter right in her tracks but he let her tug him through the short corridor and into her cosy living room. He sat down on her white couch, listening to a song that was no doubt written in the 1900's playing in the background. The living room hadn't changed at all! There were a few white shelves hung up against the walls between the windows. Atop one of those shelves, between small statues and other ornaments, Steve spotted a framed picture of a young version of himself with his frail arm slung across Bucky's shoulder. The two of them were grinning as though they had just won a prize.  
The entire colour scheme of the living room was made of whites and cream colours that made the room look a lot bigger than it actually was.

Without a word, the elderly lady disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a pot of tea a few minutes later. She placed two porcelain cups down on the glass coffee table and poured Steve some tea. "Thank you." He nodded gratefully. Peggy knew that Steve always drank his tea without milk or sugar so that made it a little simpler for her. "Talk to me Steve." She demanded gently, taking a seat next to him and putting a hand on his thigh.  
"I honestly don't know where to start Pegs." He admitted ruefully, attempting another half-hearted smile that faltered almost as soon as it had appeared. "From the beginning. One word at a time. I have all afternoon and tea to spare so take your time." He took a moment to look at her, taking in the caring look on her face and the warmth that shone from her bright brown eyes. She was beautiful, really she was. He could remember seeing photos of what she had looked like at Steve's age. Steve could imagine that he'd have fallen hopelessly in love with her had they been the same age. She was the type of person you wished only the best for. Peggy, despite the second World War and losing her husband quite some time ago, had lived a fulfilled life and had never forgotten how to smile through it all. She was one of the strongest women Steve knew. She was a woman who'd had to fight for a lot but hadn't regretted the need to even after all these years.

"You remember Bucky, right?" At the mention of Bucky's name, a wave of sadness washed over her delicate features she nodded dolefully.

"How could I possibly forget him for just one second?" her voice cracked and she cleared her throat before adding: "Is this because of him?"

Steve nodded, pursing his lips. Peggy prepared herself to comfort Steve over the loss of his best friend just as she had done four years ago when Steve had knocked on her door with puffy eyes, gasping for air.

She thought of thousands of comforting things to say about death and that life goes on but then Steve said something that shook her up more than anything had in a long time. "He's back."

"What… what do you mean?" She sat up a little straighter, eyes trembling "What _exactly_ do you mean Steven?"

"They found him. After all these years he's alive Peggy! He's just… different."

"Tell me exactly what happened Steve! Every. Single. Detail!"

And so he told her the entire story about the things that had happened over the past two months and as he did, he felt the weight of it all lift off of his tired shoulders. He told her about how he had found out that Bucky was still alive, about their first few encounters, about how _different_ Bucky was now, watching a look of horror spread over Peggy's beautiful face. The elderly lady covered her mouth with a hand when Steve began telling her about what had been done to Bucky while he had been held captive and by the time he was done, she was crying.

It took a lot to make Peggy Carter cry, Steve knew that, and so it broke his heart even more to see Peggy so sad. He knew that she loved Bucky, just as much as she loved Steve. Steve and Bucky were like her very own grandchildren. "That poor boy." She whispered sorrowfully, "He had so much potential. He was always smiling, always happy… always _good_. That boy was a blessing to the both of us! Why did they do that to him? Why Bucky of all people?!" Steve wrapped her up in his arms, letting her lean into him as much as she wanted. She was a light weight against his chest and Steve realized that she had gotten a little weaker since the last time he had seen her. The woman continued to cry for the both of them for quite some time before she managed to compose herself. Although he hadn't been the one crying, Steve still felt drained by then. "I am so sorry Steve." She lifted her hand to wipe away a traitorous tear that had escaped Steve's blue eye, caressing his cheek with her soft, wrinkly hand, "This must be so difficult for you." She added.

"I'm fine." He insisted and she raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow sceptically.

"Steve… it's alright not to be fine sometimes."

"I know that." He insisted, looking down at his hands that were pulling at a loose strand on his dark blue t-shirt, "But admitting that I'm not fine isn't going to help Bucky get better."

"And neither will pretending that you're fine until you fall apart." She insisted sternly, "You won't do him much good if you end up breaking down"

"You're right Peggy, I know you are but… who else is supposed to help him?"

"There is no one else that could help him Steve." She smiled gently, taking a hold of his hand again and squeezing it gently, "There's something else on your mind though, isn't there?" He nodded a reply, returning the faint smile she was giving him.

"I just don't know what to do." He admitted, "Ever since Colonel Rhodes told me about what he's done, I can't look at him anymore."

"Understandably so." She nodded, turning to pick up her cup to take a sip. Steve followed suit, having almost forgotten about his tea completely. It was an Earl Grey, a tea that Peggy had taken a particular liking to. They sat in silence for a little while, each of them thinking about Bucky and about the things Steve had just shared. Steve could hear the ticking of the clock in Peggy's kitchen and he vaguely wondered what time it was. After another moment of thought, Peggy broke the familiar, comfortable silence. "Do you remember that incredibly hot summer when you and Bucky came over to help me in the garden but you ended up playing with my water sprinkler instead?" SHe asked him with a fond smile. Steve let out a huff of air in a half-hearted attempt at a laugh, lowering his eyes while he let the memory play back in his mind like an old, dusty record.  
It had been so painstakingly hot that day. Bucky and Steve had wanted to help Peggy, really they had, but then they discovered the water sprinkler. _"Come on Stevie! You wanna cool down or what? 'Swear you're gonna die of a heatstroke if ya keep insisting on working in this heat."_ That's what Bucky had said while he'd hurried to turn on the tap to start the sprinkler. It had been the excited grin on Bucky's face that had eventually convinced Steve to go along with it and honestly he had thought that it had been Bucky's best idea yet! They'd spent all afternoon running through the sprinkler, laughing and tackling each other in play fights. Peggy had eventually joined them in the garden a little farther away from the sprinkler. Stray droplets of water, carried by the breeze had wafted over to her, sprinkling her in a cool hue of fresh water.

"I remember." Steve nodded, "We had so much fun." The smile on his face was broken, sad and it broke Peggy's heart to see. She wanted nothing more than to put the two boys from Brooklyn back together, to mend them and make them happy again, the way they were that summer. Because they deserved it! They deserved it more than anyone Peggy knew. "When you see him again, think of that day instead. Yes, Bucky did some horrible things, things that no one should ever do _but_ -," She paused, taking a sip of tea before continuing, "Bucky didn't have a choice in the matter from what you tell me."

"Yes but-."

"I wasn't finished young man." She chided playfully, "Now imagine what Bucky must be going through." At that Steve's heart felt like it had missed a beat and dropped right to the pit of his stomach and his mouth fell open slightl. Peggy waited for a moment, letting her last sentence sink in before speaking up again calmly. "The more he regains of his old self, the more he realizes what he's done. You're right, Bucky would never do the things that he was forced to do but yet he knows that he did them. Who knows, he probably remembers all of it and has to live with the memory of having killed so many innocent people. It's like when you wake up from a bad dream and you realize that it was only a dream. You're relieved, knowing that it was but a nightmare; that it wasn't real. Just that in Bucky's case… it wasn't a dream. He keeps waking up screaming just to realize that it didn't stop after he woke up- that it's all still there and all still real. What I'm trying to say Steve, is that Bucky needs you. More than he's ever needed you and don't get me wrong, Bucky has always, always needed you."

"But I can't look at him!" Steve raised his voice helplessly, feeling as though his emotions were strangling him, "How am I supposed to help him if I can't look him in the eye without seeing the blood on his hands? The last time I looked at him I vomited all over the floor in front of a dozen policemen!"

"You can help him by looking at _Bucky_." The simplicity of that statement left Steve speechless and gaping, "Remember what I said earlier? When you see Bucky again, think of that summer's day. _That's_ the Bucky you need to be looking at."

* * *

Steve returned to Bucky's apartment in the early evening with a bag full of freshly baked cookies and some plums that Peggy had given him especially for Bucky. She had made him promise to bring Bucky by when he was feeling better. It was comforting to know that someone else knew the Bucky from four years ago; that Steve wasn't all alone with that. Sometimes he felt like he was crazy, chasing a phantom that had never existed. He would look at old photos he still had of Bucky or the two of them together, reminding himself that Bucky really had been different once, that all of that hadn't just been a bizarre dream that he'd now woken up from.

Steve had been staring at the door for a good five minutes now, trying to get himself to just open the damn door and go inside. He hadn't seen Bucky since the incident in the police station. Today marked the third day since Rhodey had told Steve the unbearably bad news about Bucky. While Steve had been led back to a bathroom at the back of the station after throwing up, Sam had been put in charge of getting Bucky back to his apartment. Steve didn't know how that had worked out for Sam, whether Bucky had been cooperative or not. All Sam had told him was to rest up and give himself time to digest everything he'd been told before attempting to talk to Bucky again.

Steve's mind came back to the present and he sighed. He'd been staring that door down for far too long but he just didn't know if he could do what Peggy had told him to. He'd be lying if he said that he hadn't missed Bucky or hadn't worried about him. Worrying about Bucky was pretty much all Steve had done since he'd held those dog tags in his hands for the first time. He caught himself wondering how Bucky had taken the whole thing. He'd been left alone since the incident and the thought made Steve feel extremely guilty. With a defeated sigh Steve pushed the key into the lock, feeling his shoulders tense when the lock clicked open. He pushed the door open slowly, stepping over the threshold and stopping in the entrance once the door was closed behind him. "Bucky, it's me- Steve." He called out. Sam had told him that it was of utmost importance that Bucky knew who was entering and leaving his apartment at all times. He kicked off his brown boots and hung up his matching leather jacket on the clothes hook by the door, making sure to slide the apartment key back into the inside pocket of the jacket. The last thing he needed was to accidentally lock himself out of Bucky's apartment. He listened out for any noises but the apartment was so still that it was almost eerie. The sun had disappeared behind the tall buildings surrounding them and dark shadows were creeping along the wooden panels on the floor, swallowing up the kitchen in the corner of the room as well as the short corridor leading to bedroom and bathroom.

His hand tightened around the straps of the cloth bag he was carrying with the things form Peggy. He looked around one last time knowing all too well that Bucky could be so still that you would literally have to look twice to even really register him in the room. It was frightening and deemed as proof of the strict training Bucky had had to endure under Hydra's watch. Once he was sure that Bucky wasn't in the living area, he made his way to his bedroom.

The room was dark, the curtains having been drawn, banishing any traces of light that the vanishing sun was still offering. Steve left the door open behind him and the metal of Bucky's arm reflected the light coming from the living area. From the way the light bounced off of the arm, Steve could see that Bucky wasn't moving. He listened closely, picking up on Bucky's calm breath. For a moment he thought that maybe Bucky had gone to sleep but Steve knew that he wouldn't have slept through Steve opening and closing the front door. Sadly, Bucky's hypervigilance didn't stop when he fell asleep. Steve took a moment to compose himself before speaking up, thinking about Bucky! Bucky from that summer day! "Hey buddy." Steve cleared his throat when his voice came out rough and strained, "I got some cookies from an old friend of ours. She even gave me some plums to give to you. You won't remember, but you loved plums back then, especially hers."

No reply.

It was difficult to judge the situation without really being able to see anything except for Buck's outline. A little voice in his head told him to keep it that way, to avoid having to look at Bucky, look at the man who had killed so many- but no! He _had_ to look! If he didn't look, how was he supposed to see _Bucky_?

"Listen Buck, I'm going to put on the light alright? If you don't want me to, say so." He waited for a moment with nothing but his slightly rushed heartbeat to drown out the silence hitting his ears. When he was sure that Bucky hadn't said anything or made a move to do anything, he sat down on the edge of the bed and leant over to the lamp on the bedside table on his side. The LED lamp flickered once, twice before illuminating the room in its white light. Steve had to squint for a moment before his eyes adjusted. His back was facing Bucky so he was still unable to look at Bucky. Steve took his time, knowing that Bucky would wait. He thought back to the conversation he had had with Peggy, realizing then how silly he had been. Bucky had been confined to this apartment, all alone with his thoughts, nightmares and memories that were coming back like a blizzard, sending him into a confused panic sometimes. How could Steve have left him to himself for three whole days? God who the hell _cared_ about what Bucky had done? He needed his help now so why had Steve been so selfishly stupid?! He regretted his refusal to see Bucky with all his heart now. He wouldn't even hold it against Bucky if he was mad at Steve for it. Hell, if Bucky felt the need to punch him for being such a jerk then Steve would gladly let him do it, metal arm and all.

He turned to Bucky now with a determined frown, his eyes ready to take in whatever Bucky was going to tell him with his body language. Bucky was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with empty eyes. His hair was splayed out over the cushion that he had unceremoniously stuffed underneath his head. His right arm was resting on his abdomen while his metal hand drew calming circles on the back of his right. As for his body language- it was telling him absolutely nothing! Steve realized that his initial inability to look at Bucky had been doomed to stay nothing but a short-lived problem that could have been resolved two days ago. When he looked at Bucky now, all he could see were the visible and invisible scars on his body, on his Bucky's body. He saw a tortured man, forced to do things that he would never have done had he had _any_ inkling of a say in the matter. He could look at Bucky for hours, days. It was painful yes, but his body was like a canvas that told a long, tremendously sad story that was worth listening to. He wanted to trace every scar on Bucky's body with his fingers to show Bucky that yes, he did see them but he still found Bucky just as beautiful as he had been when he was all smiles and charms. He was still Bucky after all…

When he realized that Bucky still hadn't so much as acknowledged Steve's presence, his chest tightened and he felt a pool of anxiety build up in the pit of his stomach. He had hurt Bucky by leaving him all alone. He had to make things better. He had to be there for Bucky like he should have been all along. He wanted Bucky to look at him again, to talk to him again. "I'm sorry for leaving you for so long. I needed time to work through everything before facing you again." Steve admitted. He decided, as he so often did, to take the honest route. Steve studied Bucky's eyes anxiously but they stayed indifferent and empty, almost as if they were made out of beautiful, steel-blue marble. "Bucky? C'mon look at me Buck." Bucky's eyes shifted to Steve and the latter held his breath for a moment. There was unmistakable recognition in his eyes and yet he was resigned and distant, like talking to a stranger he had once known a very long time ago. "I really don't know what else you want me to say Buck." Steve ran his hand through his hair while Bucky stayed silent until he saw frustration creep onto Steve's handsome face. "I don't know either." Bucky said, so quietly that Steve almost missed it. Steve slouched down visibly, lifting his legs and crossing them in front of himself, now facing Bucky completely. "I really am sorry." Steve said earnestly, "It was just… a lot more than I could handle in one day. The things they did to you… it shook me up more than I had given it credit for. I wasn't planning on leaving you for good, I promise! I was going to come back. I always will Bucky. There's no way I'll ever let you slip through my fingers again." Steve let out a breathy laugh when Bucky still refused to talk to him properly. Steve figured that he probably deserved the silent treatment but that didn't make it easier to bear, "Come on Bucky! Please, talk to me. Say _something_. I'm going crazy here!" Steve only just barely noticed something in Bucky shift before his mouth opened. "I was going to tell you." Bucky muttered, "It's what I dream about every night."

"About the people you've killed?" When Bucky nodded, Steve cringed.

"I remember all of them."

Steve let out a slow breath, letting that sink in for a minute. He couldn't possibly imagine what Bucky must be going through. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to have his dreams invaded by the haunting faces of the innocent people that he had killed; to remember the life draining out of each of their eyes as they stared at him. The thought made Steve's skin crawl. No… there definitely was no way that Steve could possibly imagine what amount of pain Bucky must be going through on a daily basis. The more he gained of his old self again, the more his past as the Winter Soldier was bound to hurt him. Not remembering anything, not remembering the meaning of morals and values made everything a lot less agonizing for him.

Remembering was painful.

"It wasn't you." Steve said the first thing that came to his mind and before he could stop them, words came bubbling out of his mouth, "So I don't care. What they made you do… it wasn't right! The Winter Soldier killed all those people, not you! So… I don't hate you and I don't think any less of you. You're still Bucky and nothing is ever going to change what you mean to me." That's when Steve had made up his mind: he was gonna stick this out with Bucky. He was going to stay at Bucky's side, 'til the end of the line, no matter what.

"You don't have to say anything." Steve assured Bucky who was staring into Steve's eyes calmly, "I don't expect you to, really. I just wanted you to know all that."

"I'll remember." Bucky promised and Steve found himself grinning like a fool.

"You better." Steve joked and with a gentle smile. He hadn't expected much of a reaction out of Bucky so when Bucky smirked at him, the way he used to, Steve almost let his mouth drop to the floor. It was the exact same smirk! The smirk that curved up the corners of his mouth in a way that melted all the girls' hearts. It was the smirk that Bucky would always give Steve when he was teasing him about God knows what while Steve fought his sometimes angry and sometimes flustered blush.

"What are you smirking at you jerk?" Steve found that he was slightly breathless.

"You're such a punk Stevie." Bucky replied without missing a single beat and for a moment Steve forgot himself. He forgot the fact that Bucky was no longer that sassy guy from four years ago. He forgot the pain, the struggle of the past months and he forgot that they were no longer two teenagers in Brooklyn. His arms stretched out towards Bucky and scooped him up in one strong movement and before Steve could stop himself, he was hugging Bucky to his chest. Only when Bucky went rigid in his arms did Steve come back to reality and realize that he might have just made a huge mistake. He braced himself, waiting for Bucky to extract himself from Steve's hug and defend himself in a series of movements that were probably going to leave Steve badly hurt. He waited and waited but… it didn't happen. "I'm sorry." Steve mumbled into Bucky's right shoulder, "It's just that I've missed you so much Bucky."  
Bucky began relaxing slowly, letting Steve hold him for as long as Steve needed it. He had seen people at the police station hug. Often men would hug their fretting wives so Bucky assumed it was something that people did for comfort. He found that it didn't feel nearly as constricting to have Steve's arms around him as he had expected. Was it the nature of the gesture or was it because it was Steve? The thought of anyone else doing this to him made Bucky want to go rigid all over again. The only times he had ever wrapped his arms around someone was when he was strangling them from behind, breaking something of theirs or pushing them into his knife. He pushed those thoughts away quickly- he didn't want to compare what he had done to what Steve was doing right then and there. This felt different, it felt _right_. It felt warm and made him feel safe, safer than he had ever felt before. He knew that he was making himself incredibly vulnerable by letting someone this close to him while he was unarmed but it was Steve. Stevie was good. Stevie wasn't going to hurt him and he would do whatever Stevie needed him to do and right now, Steve needed that hug. "I'm here now." Bucky said, noticing that Steve's arms tightened around him in response to what he'd said.

* * *

When Steve had asked Bucky whether he wanted to move to the living room, the other had shrugged it off, not knowing how to reply to what Steve was asking. When Steve changed his approach to a suggestion, Bucky had agreed immediately, following Steve into the living room moments later. It was now early evening and Steve and Bucky were sitting on the couch in the living area. "Oh wait a second!" Steve got up from the couch quickly, hurrying back into Bucky's bedroom to retrieve the bag that Peggy had given him. He walked back into the living room, smiling when he noticed that Bucky's eyes were on him again as soon as he entered the room. He sat down a little closer to Bucky than was normal for them nowadays, probably because he realized that Bucky was okay with Steve being close and maybe also because Bucky had always been a comforting presence to be close to. He fished out the paper bag with the plums, dumping them into Bucky's lap before putting the rest down carefully as not to damage the cookies. "What's this?" Bucky looked at the bag and then at Steve questioningly.

"Why don't you have a look and see for yourself?" Steve offered and Bucky nodded, once again doing what Steve asked him to do without question. His right hand disappeared into the paper bag and brought forth a round plumb seconds later. He weighed the plumb in his hand for a moment before looking up at Steve for further instructions. "You can eat those. You used to love them!" Bucky peered down at the plumb for another second before popping it into his mouth. Steve grinned when he saw Bucky's eyes light up as soon as he'd started chewing. Obviously Bucky still liked Peggy's plums as much as he used to. Steve left the bag of plums in Bucky's lap and turned on the TV. They channel-surfed for a while until they found a sci-fi series to watch. Every time Steve looked over at Bucky to suss out his reaction to what was happening on TV, he found Bucky chewing on a plum that he had shoved into his mouth while the next plumb already waited in the palm of his hand. Steve watched him for a moment longer before looking back at the TV, letting out a long breath to disguise the content sigh that he'd let out unthinkingly.

Peggy really had been right: he had been looking at the wrong Bucky. All he cared about was Bucky Barnes and not the Winter Soldier. Bucky was making astounding progress and Steve decided then and there that no matter what other horrors were hidden in Bucky's mind, he wouldn't forsake his friend, he wouldn't judge him and he would always care for him because that's how it had always worked. Bucky had spent years protecting and caring for Steve and now it was Steve's turn to protect and help Bucky. They had been friend sinces childhood and absolutely inseparable. Steve wasn't going to let something like this come between Bucky and him, not again- he was going to fight whatever tried to take Bucky away from him, no matter how difficult, no matter if it cost him his last bloody breath. He wasn't going to hide away while Bucky disappeared. Never ever again! He was going to hold on to and help Bucky because that's what you did for someone you cared about.

That's what you did for someone you love.

* * *

 **There you go! A little happiness after the last chapter! And of course Peggy! I love her so I always make a point to include her in my fanfictions.**  
 **Well I really hope you guys enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

Hey guys!  
 _I keep forgetting to upload the next chapter! I'm so sorry!_  
But here you have chapter 8. I really, really hope you guys enjoy it and I appreciate the fact that you've read up to here already. It really means so much to me! This fanfiction is my baby and it means a lot so I'm so happy when people take interest in it.  
So anywho~ enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Bucky had taken to carrying an A5 notebook with him into which he scribbled fragments of memories, trying to hold onto them that way until the memory was complete. Sometimes he'd get Steve to draw him something that they had both seen to make sure that he remembered something correctly. Steve was an amazing artist and always managed to capture all the small details that were so important to Bucky, important in helping him remember. Bucky would fold all the sketches Steve drew and would keep them in the back of his book to look at whenever he felt his memories blur at the edges.  
Steve helped him look up some online articles about events that they had gone to or important events that had happened in the past four years that Bucky had missed. They printed them out and he stuck them into that notebook of his, labelling them with colourful sticky notes. He'd also write down names that popped into his mind, asking Steve to tell him who they were. He would write down everything Steve told him about the person belonging to the name as if he was scared that he'd forget the person again if he didn't. The notebook had been Sam's idea and honestly, Steve was eternally grateful to Sam for it. It helped Bucky sort his thoughts and gave him a sense of control, calming him down immensely. It also gave them a constant topic of conversation.

"There's still something wrong." Steve muttered, leaning against the water dispenser in the gym. Sam and Steve were watching Bucky take out his pent-up energy on a training dummy that was looking worse for wear the longer Bucky punched and kicked it. The gym smelt of rubber and sweat. It was a familiar smell for Steve, one that he hardly registered anymore.

"What d'ya mean?" Sam asked, crossing his arms across his chest like he so often did.

"When I ask him what he wants, he never answers." Steve explained, "When I ask if he wants to do something, it's the same thing. The only exception is when I say that _I_ want to do something or that _we_ should. Then he just does it without complaining or objecting." He sighed, listening to the clapping sound that echoed off the walls of the station's gym every time Bucky's right hand came into contact with the dummy. "Sounds kinda familiar, doesn't it?" Sam looked over at Steve in the same moment that Steve looked at him. Dread welled up in Steve, the feeling driving him to start doubting the apparent progress Bucky had made. "Are you trying to tell me that he's following orders?" Steve asked. The line between his eyebrows was getting more and more pronounced the longer this conversation went on. He was almost regretting bringing up the topic in the first place.

"Sorry Steve but… that's exactly it: he's following orders." Sam muttered, making sure to keep his voice low to prevent Bucky from hearing them, "You said he's starting to remember who he is. That's good. Still, I doubt that we'll get rid of what Hydra put into him that quickly." Steve nodded distractedly, feeling like he was caught in one of his nightmares again, powerless and unbearably unable to change a damn thing, "Have you asked him how he sees himself?"

"What?" Steve blinked, tearing his eyes away from the grey cement floor and looking back up at Sam whose face was unreadable.

"Well think about it: Hydra made him believe that he was nothing but a weapon, an object. I'd be interested to know whether he still sees himself as a weapon or is starting to see himself as a person again. A weapon doesn't want things or want to do things, doesn't have a free will- a weapon is maintained and used to eliminate the enemy."

Steve let that sink in for a while, as painful as it was to do, watching the way Bucky moved. His movements were heavy and forceful, violent in a way that made Steve feel nervous and jittery, uncomfortable. His movements weren't meant to hurt; they were meant to destroy. His body was like a spring that uncoiled right before winding up again, ready to let out all of its force on the nearest object over and over again without tiring. Even now when Bucky was calm, he still moved like an assassin. He didn't move anything like Bucky used to.  
Steve noticed that Bucky had been striking with his right hand only. He was about to ask Sam about it when Bucky pulled back his left arm. The plates shifted to recalibrate and prepare for impact and with one impetuous movement, Bucky brought his metal fist down on the training dummy that splintered into numerous pieces with a loud crack that rang in Steve's ears. Steve was too shocked to cringe at the pain in his ears. The only thing he was rendered capable to do, was stare, open-mouthed. "So that's..." Sam's voice trailed off, a shocked arch defining his eyebrows as he eyed the remains of the training dummy on the floor. The training dummies were, in their essence, designed to replicate a human being as best as they could. If that had been a real person… a human being instead of a training dummy… Steve's eyes were on the remains too and he felt a dip in his stomach and he bit down his nausea immediately. "Yeah." Steve forced himself to reply, shaking off the shock when Bucky turned to look at him. He didn't even look apologetic for having destroyed expensive training equipment. Instead, he looked passive, like he was waiting for instructions.  
"How are you feeling?" Steve asked him and Bucky frowned, looking puzzled by the question, "See what I mean?" he muttered to Sam before the two made their way over to Bucky.

Bucky's eyes watched Steve, analysed him the way they always did. Steve was tense but Bucky couldn't figure out why. Steve's upper arms and shoulders were strung tight, like he was seconds away from lashing out. When Steve came to a standstill in front of him, he took a step back instinctively, pressing his arms against his sides and standing up a little straighter. "Let me guess, you didn't even break a sweat, am I right?" Sam asked him a little sarcastically, tilting his head a little at the end of his question. "No." Bucky replied bluntly and Sam huffed at that, shaking his head before looking down at his phone for the time. "Well as much as I'd love to keep watching Hercules do this thing, I'm gonna go and give Rhodey my report for the day before I start doubting my masculinity. Try not to break anything… else..." He quirked an eyebrow at Bucky who showed little to no reaction to what Sam was saying. Sam patted Steve's upper arm in silent encouragement before striding off leisurely. The metal gym doors closed with a click that echoed off the high arching walls, making Steve feel small and lonely in the large space.  
Steve let his eyes wander around the hall, giving himself a moment to think. There was a boxing ring in the far corner, next to a metal stand filled with weights of all shapes and sizes. Mats were spread all over the floor in between training equipment. Numerous dummies were lined to the right wall, one of them now lying in fragments at Steve's feet. He looked back down at the pieces while he let his mind wander to what Sam had said about Bucky still being a weapon. After all this time, how could Bucky still consider himself nothing but an object? Bucky wasn't a weapon! He was Bucky! _His_ Bucky! He was much, much more than a mindless weapon! Hadn't he shown that to Bucky over the past two months? Hadn't he done enough to help Bucky? Had he gone about this all wrong? Had Bucky even made any real progress at all?! Or was he doing all of this because Steve wanted him to? His mind went back to the nightmares that had plagued him ever since he had been told that Bucky was dead. Although they would vary, they all ended the same way- Bucky died and there was absolutely nothing Steve could do about it.  
It was like he was there just to watch it all happen.  
This was a lot like that. Bucky was so far gone and although Steve had desperately and self-sacrificingly tried to help his best friend, all of that suddenly didn't seem like it had been enough. If he hadn't even been able to show Bucky how _precious_ he was and how much he meant to Steve, then how much of a help was he really?

Anxiety and anger flushed through his system like a deadly poison and his body switched to autopilot, his legs carrying him over to his bag that he'd left by the water dispenser next to the door. He brought forth bandages that he quickly wrapped around his hands, muscle memory guiding his fingers. Once his knuckles were safely tucked away under a firm layer of bandages, Steve moved over to a punching bag hanging in the far right corner of the room. For a moment, he forgot about the fact that Bucky was there. He forgot about the fact that he hadn't slept properly in over a month. He ignored the fact that he was so tense that his muscles ached all over. He pulled back his right arm before forcing it forward angrily, bringing his fist down on the bag. He then did the same with his left hand; then right. His hands beat down on the boxing bag over and over again, the way they used to when he was at the gym after a nightmare-filled night.  
After a while, he could feel the muscles in his shoulder begin to burn slightly. It felt good. The feeling drove him to punch harder and harder and harder until the muscles in his arms began to scream in protest. Sweat began shimmering on his skin and his fringe stuck to his forehead slightly. His feet shifted over the cement floor while he continued to punch and _C'mon Stevie! You gotta hit harder than that if you wanna protect yourself! Try again!_

With every punch, a new memory came forth, making his heart clench and driving him to punch even harder and harder.

The memory of a stranger with brown hair standing in front of him with spread out arms, protecting him from the bullies. An outstretched hand, offering to help him up from the ground.

The memory of an arm pulling him closer, against a firm chest.

The memory of a knee-weakening smirk while an arm was draped around a girl's waist.

The memory of a hand on each of his shoulders while he wept at his mother's funeral.

The memory of a feeling that made his whole body feel like it was on fire.

The memory of a fight because he had to go and because he might never, never ever come back and he wept and wept and wept because that idiot wasn't coming back he was dead! Dead!

A hand wrapping around his throat.

Dead!

Cold eyes staring back at him.

Dead! He was dead!

A hand caught his and stopped it mid-strike masterfully, his shoulder jerked under the inability to let out the pent-up momentum. He blinked back to reality, noting the stinging pain spreading over his knuckles. When Bucky let go of Steve's hand, Steve saw that Bucky's hand had feint lines of blood on the metal. He lifted his hands, realizing that the bandages had slipped and torn, subjecting his knuckles to the full force of his punches and splitting them right open. One look at the punching bag told him that it must have happed quite some time ago.

How had he not noticed that?

His breathing was uneven and his chest still felt tight with emotions that were still heartbreakingly present and almost impossible to control.

Despite the pain, his body itched to continue until he couldn't continue anymore, until all the pain scratching at his insides like sandpaper was gone. He swallowed, concentrating on slowing down his breathing. Bucky didn't say anything, just kept his ears on Steve's breathing because something told him that that was important; that respiratory distress was something he had to listen out for with Steve.

Steve pulled the bandages off slowly, cringing when they brushed over the sores on his knuckles. He dabbed the blood from his hands using the ruined bandages before shoving them into the pocket of his grey jogging pants sloppily. He took a deep breath, composing himself, closing his eyes and gathering his racing thoughts before speaking up. "What do you think of yourself?" Steve asked hoarsely, turning to face Bucky who was watching him warily. The question was met with the same confused reaction that Bucky had mastered by now. For the first time, it irritated Steve, showed him that Sam had been right with what he had said. He was too emotionally-drained to beg Bucky to just _talk_ so he resorted to the only other way he knew how to make this new Bucky do what he wanted him to. "I want you to tell me what you think of yourself." Steve added and Bucky shifted, looking down at the floor while he thought. Steve wanted to whirl around and smash his fists against the punching bag again when he realized that Bucky was going to answer this time. He was going to answer not because he understood the importance of Steve's question, not because it meant a lot to Steve, not because he _wanted_ to but because he was… he was following orders.  
"My name is Bucky." He started slowly with a wavering voice that mirrored his uncertainty, "I protect you because you're Steve and I belong to you." Steve held his breath, swallowing the morbid lump in his throat. Hearing Bucky say something like that, hearing him talk like that about himself… it just… made Steve feel strange. It made his skin crawl and his stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot. It just felt so _wrong_ to hear Bucky Barnes talk like that. His heart was racing and he was shifting from one foot to the other restlessly. "Should I continue?" Bucky enquired when Steve hadn't responded and Steve nodded after a short moment of hesitation. He was terrified of what Bucky was going to say but he knew that he needed to hear it. He wanted to help Bucky and if that meant hearing things that hurt him, he would take it- he would let someone set him on fire, let Hydra have him and take his own humanity away over and over again if it ended up helping Bucky.

"I am a weapon that Hydra created. I serve the purpose to-."

"No." Steve interrupted Bucky, shaking his head vehemently, "You're not a weapon! Furthermore, Hydra did not _create_ you!" His voice came out a lot louder than he had intended and Bucky clenched his jaw, squaring his shoulders before taking a step back. Steve wanted to panic when he realized his error but he quickly reminded himself that that wasn't going to solve this in the slightest. "I'm sorry." Steve blurted out, "I didn't mean to yell." He took a deep breath to compose himself before continuing in a low voice, "You're a person Bucky. You're James Buchanan Barnes, the guy who took all my stupid with him when he joined the army. You're allowed to want. You're allowed to like, to hate to love- whatever you want, you're allowed to be your own person."

"A person?" Bucky echoed, looking down at his hands as if they held the answers.

"You were a person before Hydra, even if you don't remember it. You're a person now too." Steve tried to explain, wishing he could look inside of Bucky's head to know what his best friend was thinking. "I don't remember how to be a person." Bucky admitted and the lost look on his face in that moment tore Steve's heart apart. "I'll help you remember." Steve promised in a shaky voice, lifting his hand to wipe a few stray strands of brown hair out of Bucky's face. It was an old habit but Steve wasn't about to do anything about it. If Bucky let him touch him, then Steve would. "Want to go for a shower?" Steve asked him with the best smile he could muster up. It was crooked, but it was a smile. Bucky took a moment to consider Steve's question before lifting his eyes to meet Steve's. "Yes… I think I do."

* * *

The concept of wanting to do something or having his own interests confused Bucky. Hydra had taken anything along the lines of a personality away from Bucky through torture, dehumanisation and numerous painful 'wipes'. The more he remembered from his past self though, the more he felt himself tending to do some things more and others less. He wondered whether he was doing those things because he liked them or disliked doing the ones he avoided. He didn't know. He didn't remember what it felt like to want to do something or generally how to apply the term want. He knew what dislike felt like, knew what hate was. Liking something was an abstract concept, just as happiness was to him. Still, he figured that he must like Steve in some way. Steve made him feel better. Did he like that? He probably did; he just wasn't sure yet.

Throughout the next few days, Steve would explain his own actions to Bucky to make the concepts they were introducing him to more relatable. "I draw," Steve held up the sketch pad for Bucky to see, "Because I like sketching. It's fun." He smiled at Bucky who looked between Steve and his sketch of a man playing with his dog for a few seconds before Steve could see a question forming in his eyes. "Fun?" Bucky frowned thoughtfully and Steve waited patiently, keeping his eyes on Bucky to watch his thoughts project onto his face with all its intricate expressions. Steve could hear the dog bark and his fingers itched to finish his still life sketch before the pair left the park but he pushed down that feeling, focusing solely on Bucky. "Like when we went to Coney Island?" Steve's eyes widened against his will and the sketchpad was forgotten instantaneously, sliding out of his hand and onto the bench next to him. "You remember that?" Steve gasped. He couldn't help his excitement. His face was all lit up and his eyes were sparkling expectantly.

"I made you ride the Cyclone. It was a rollercoaster. You threw up afterwards." Bucky's features relaxed almost as if they were about to bend into a smile, "I gave you your inhaler because you couldn't breathe properly."

"Yeah I remember that." Steve nodded.

"But we still had… fun?" Bucky looked almost hopeful to Steve, and the latter scooted a little closer to Bucky, somehow yearning for his proximity, yearning to touch him and reassure him, show him that he was okay, that he was a human being, that he wasn't going to hurt anyone anymore.

"We did." Steve told him, smiling at the nod that Bucky gave him. He watched Bucky get out his notebook and a pen from the small black shoulder bag he carried with him nowadays. He opened the hardcover A5 book at the most recently used page, writing down the words _Coney Island_ and _I had fun_ in his neat handwriting.

"You'll have fun again sometime." Steve assured him when Bucky hadn't looked up from the book, "It takes time. When I came back from a SWAT mission that was particularly difficult for me to stomach, it took me months to have fun again. I didn't touch a pencil until two months after that." Again, Bucky nodded in response, letting the pen hover above the page before writing down more.

 _Steve likes to draw._

Steve stared at the words for a little while longer, feeling a blush spread across his face while warmth bloomed in his chest. He had almost forgotten what Bucky could make him feel like. It flustered him so much that he forced himself to his feet, stuffing his sketchpad and his pencils into his grey backpack and slinging it onto his back. He didn't know where he was going, just that he didn't care, as long as he got away and _what's wrong Stevie? You're all red! Don't tell me yer getting sick again! Want me to stay the night to look after you? Stevie? You're getting even redder! Go lie down! I'll make you some tea._

"Steve?" Bucky's voice was deeper and rougher than usual. When Steve look at him, he found that his shoulders were tense and his eyes were studying Steve anxiously. "Oh damn, sorry!" His mind put two and two together and Steve put a hand on Bucky's shoulder comfortingly, settling back down on the bench. Bucky tensed notably before he relaxed slowly, letting out a long, controlled breath to slow down his heartbeat. "I shouldn't have moved that quickly." Steve added. Bucky mirrored what Steve would usually do when he didn't want someone to worry about him, letting his lips curve into a slightly awkward-feeling, reassuring smile. "What were you doing?" Bucky asked him when he saw that Steve was no-longer as upset as a moment ago. "I wanted to…" Steve's voice trailed off when he couldn't think of something to say. He was pretty sure that Bucky would drop the subject if Steve told him that he didn't want to talk about it and yet he felt inclined to make up _something_ to ease Bucky's racing mind. He could see it in Bucky's eyes, the way they were shifting a little more than usual, mirroring the chaos in his mind. It always happened when small, day to day things triggered memories that he couldn't place. There was so much going on in Bucky's mind, contrary to what most people would think judging by his vacant facial expression. "Did I do something wrong?" Steve sucked in a sharp breath, startled by the fact that Bucky was looking for the problem in himself.

"Why would you say that?" Steve asked him, a little breathless due to his fluster.

"Your body language… you wanted to get away. The only thing you could have been running away from, is me." It was only a feint crease in his eyebrows but Steve picked it up; picked up the hint of hurt in Bucky's eyes and identified Bucky's fear of being put back to sleep. "No that's not it at all!" Steve flailed his arms around, reverting back to the uncoordinated kid from Brooklyn who was trying to explain something to his best friend, "I wanted to get away from my own thoughts. I don't know." He shook his head, fighting the blush that wanted to betray him, "Something hit me and I just wanted it gone."

"Did it hurt?" Bucky asked, his face straightening out but Steve could still see that he felt unsettled.

"No. No it didn't hurt."

"Good." Bucky nodded, looking at something behind Steve before continuing, "Because I don't want you getting hurt."

Steve's breath hitched and he had to avert his eyes, staring down at the floor which he proceeded to paw with his foot, rolling a small stone underneath the tip of his brown boot. "Thanks Buck." He forced out the words as to prevent Bucky from getting the wrong idea. He had done everything right and Bucky needed to know that, "That means a lot to me."

Another concept Bucky didn't quite understand. Then again, when he thought back to what he had felt when Steve had told him that he'd always come back for him, Bucky thought that maybe he understood what Steve meant with that. So Steve valued the fact that Bucky wanted to protect him? 'Always wanted to protect Stevie because he didn't deserve pain- he deserved the best. A memory associated with that train of thought rolled over him like a wave and his body tensed when an unfamiliar feeling spread through him. It made him feel as heavy as lead and his eyes began burning while his throat dried up.

He could see Steve crying, no… sobbing. There was a coffin placed next to an open grave. A cold breeze whipped through the air around them and forced Steve's short blonde fringe out of his face. Bucky saw the deep creases on his best friend's forehead that sorrow had personally put there. Why Stevie? Why did this have to happen to Stevie? He moved to stand behind Steve, placing one hand on each of the smaller boy's shoulders. He could feel Steve lean back against him and he let him, let Steve press the back of his head against his chest as hard as he wanted.

When Bucky came back to reality, Steve was watching him with those same worried eyes, scanning his face, probably for any signs of aggression. Bucky wanted to get his book out to write down the memory and the feeling associated with it but something stopped him.

He thought that if he forgot this, forgot how _sad_ Steve had looked on that day and forgot how much it hurt to see Steve in pain, how unbearably sad it had made him feel… he thought that if he forgot all of that, that it wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

There you go~ I hope you liked it!

Please let me know what you thought of it! I'd really appreciate it!

Until next time~


	9. Chapter 9

Hey guys! So I realize that I need to be more consistent so I'm going to try post a chapter a week. Today I'll be posting two to make up for my laziness when it comes to posting. But from now on, it'll be one chapter a week!

I hope that this chapter answers a few questions that I've been asked about Steve. :)

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Bucky was tense.

As a matter of fact, everyone was.

They had delayed Bucky's physical examination by three months, knowing that it was near to impossible to do a physical evaluation with him in his initial mindset. Now though, Bucky was a lot more at ease, even throwing out a sassy comment every now and then.

Today though, Bucky hadn't said a single word since he'd woken up. He ate the pancakes Steve had made so quickly, Steve wondered if he even tasted what he was eating. He was silent, staring ahead of himself with that same vacant expression that he had mastered. Steve sat adjacent to him, eating his pancakes quietly, looking at anything _but_ his brooding friend. He wanted to reassure Bucky, tell him that everything was going to be fine but something about the way Bucky was holding himself stopped him. Steve downed the rest of his breakfast in an attempt to keep up with Bucky, mourning the fact that he couldn't enjoy his pancakes. Once the two were done, Steve made quick work of the dishes, trying to ignore the fact that Bucky's fork was dented and bent.

The silence weighed heavily on Steve and he felt more and more uncomfortable the longer the morning went on. He felt jittery and short of breath, unable to enjoy the morning or the company. He was eager to get out of the apartment and get this medical exam over with, to have Bucky back to his relatively normal self again.

"Are you ready to go?" Steve asked once he'd closed the dishwasher and had straightened up to stand.

No response.

He walked over to Bucky slowly, so used to touching Bucky by now that he placed a hand on his shoulder unthinkingly. Bucky's left hand shot up, grabbing Steve's wrist, yanking his arm away from his shoulder and twisting it. Bucky was on his feet and Steve couldn't remember when Bucky had gotten up in the first place. His broad shoulders were heaving up and down heavily, his face bent into a frightening scowl. Steve's shoulder ached slightly in response to the arm being twisted but he was surprised to find that Bucky hadn't actually hurt him. Steve took a deep breath to calm himself before pulling at the arm that Bucky was still holding onto, positively surprised when Bucky let Steve's wrist slip out of his grip. "Are you with me?" Steve asked Bucky quietly, watching the anger drain from Bucky's features at the sound of Steve's deep voice. "I am." Bucky assured him, "I wasn't a moment ago…"

"But you managed to stop yourself." Steve smiled at Bucky who looked down at his metal hand for a moment before nodding slowly as if he couldn't quite believe that he'd actually managed to stop himself from hurting someone. "You asked something." Bucky looked up, his eyes lighting up ever the slightest once he was looking at his best friend, "What did you ask me?"

"Are you ready to go?" Steve repeated his question from earlier gently.

"I am." Steve turned to walk to the door to get his jacket and his shoes but as soon as he took a step, a hand on his upper arm stopped him. Surprised, he turned to find Bucky looking down at the floor as if ashamed. "What's wrong Buck?" Steve asked him worriedly, bowing his head a little to get a better look at Bucky's face. "Don't make me go through this alone." Steve wasn't sure whether Bucky had intended to sound so desperately pleading but it elicited a strong wish to protect Bucky from deep within Steve. "I won't leave your side for a second." Steve promised without knowing whether or not he was really going to be able to keep that promise. He didn't know exactly what would be done during the exam, didn't know whether or not he was going to be able to stay with Bucky the entire time. "And if they want me to leave, I'll fight them." He added jokingly and Bucky grunted, his shoulders relaxing notably. "You mean like ya used to back in Brooklyn?" He asked Steve who laughed, the boisterous sound of it filling up the previously empty silence that had reigned between them.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Rhodey greeted Bucky and Steve at the reception area of the air-conditioned hospital. He was wearing his usual formal military uniform, the badges he had pinned to his blazer glinting in the light cast by the LED lamps overhead. Bucky eyed the entrance area warily, putting tabs on every person in the vicinity as well as emergency exits. Steve was walking ahead of Bucky this time and he was so close at Steve's heels that their feet almost touched while they walked. "It's been a while." Rhodes greeted the two with a light smile. Steve noticed the slight quirk to the Colonel's eyebrows when he eyed Bucky, "Sam has been telling me that you two are making impressive progress?"

"Yeah. Steve's a 'real good babysitter." Bucky muttered sarcastically, earning a glare from Steve. Bucky smirked at him for a moment before going back to his initial task of watching everyone in their immediate surroundings. "Well it looks like Sam wasn't exaggerating." Rhodey said with an amused, if not relieved smile. "Speaking of Sam…" Steve said, looking around for any signs of his friend, "Didn't he say he was coming as well?"

"He's upstairs prepping the lab with Mr. Stark." Rhodey replied.

"Tony's here too?" Steve's blue eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder at Bucky to gorge his reaction. Bucky looked absolutely indifferent. When he saw that Steve was looking at him, his eyes found Steve's blue ones and he arched his eyebrows in a silent question. Without answering Bucky's unspoken enquiry, Steve turned back to Rhodey who was watching the two silently.

"Bucky is a little tense. Please make sure that the staff are informed about the circumstances." Steve stated flatly. Bucky stared at the back of Steve's head, feeling unsettled by the almost military tone of voice Steve had assumed. "I will, Captain." Rhodey nodded, dismissing himself after handing Steve a piece of paper with the room number on it, "Whenever you two are ready." He nodded at Bucky before passing them and walking through the glass sliding doors of the hospital.

Steve looked down at the slip of paper for a moment before making his way across the entrance hall, past the large white reception desk, the small store and the cafeteria. He navigated Bucky towards a door that led to a flight of stairs. He opened the door for Bucky, letting the super-soldier walk through first, a silent promise to watch his six as he did so. Bucky accepted the unspoken gesture gratefully stopping once he was through the door and turning to Steve.

Captain Steven Grant Rogers.

He had never been around Steve and Rhodes long enough to see how the two interacted with one another but Bucky assumed that Steve had his own military protocol burned somewhere into the back of his mind. Steve stood up straighter when talking to the Colonel, squaring his shoulders the way he used to when he tried to enrol in the army, tried to make himself look bigger. His voice was more reserved and his smile dialled down to not show his white teeth. "Steve." He said his name automatically, like an anchor, like a plea for Steve to be that kid from Brooklyn again, not the strong man from the SWAT team, not Captain Rogers. When Bucky turned around to look at Steve, he found him looking at him with puzzled, concerned eyes. Bucky took a hasty step forward, crowding Steve into the corner next to the door, disregarding Steve's startled expression and pressing his body against Steve's. He didn't know why he was doing it but he wanted, no needed, to be close to Steve, he wanted to feel him, convince himself that Steve was there and that he wasn't leaving.

"It's okay Buck." Steve placed his hands on Bucky's back, pulling the slightly shorter man closer and letting him rest his brown-haired head on his shoulder. He could feel the tiniest bit of Bucky's warm breath on his neck and it gave him goosebumps. His hands fisted the crimson red shirt that Bucky was wearing, clinging onto him like he should have the day Bucky had taken that train and hadn't come back for four years. He let out a relieved breath, realizing only then how much he had missed Bucky's body so close to his. For a moment, he forgot why they had come here. He even forgot where they were or that Bucky had been tortured for four years while he had let his guilty conscience take him apart slowly. All that mattered in that moment was Bucky's body against his and Bucky's hands resting on his hips so tightly that the tips of his fingers were digging into his skin. Despite his size, Steve felt small in Bucky's arms the way he always used to. To him, Bucky would always be bigger, _feel_ bigger and stronger than Steve could ever hope to be.

"I'm not leaving you Buck. I'm with you til the end of the line, remember?" Steve whispered and Bucky let out a light laugh, the sound making Steve's stomach jump. "I'm with ya til the end of the line, pal." Bucky echoed, lifting his head from Steve's shoulder and smiling at him. It was the most genuine smile that Steve had seen Bucky smile in over four years. Steve traced Bucky's lips with his eyes, committing the imagine to memory before looking away quickly. "I'm ready." Bucky said, moving to give Steve more space and Steve almost didn't let him move away. At first Steve was confused but once Bucky was farther away from him, Bucky's smell was replaced by the sterile smell of the hospital and reality hit home like a shock of icy water. "Right."

"You'll fight them?" Bucky asked when they had started climbing the stairs slowly.

"I'll fight them." Steve promised with a determined frown, leading Bucky up the stairs and down the hall to room number 237.

* * *

The air in the lab was dry and sterile, making Steve's nose tingle. There was a large treadmill standing in the far corner of the room with a machine standing next to it, cables hanging from a hook in its side. A mobile x-ray machine similar to the one Tony Stark had had in his lab stood off to the side. Computers were set up on a desk close to the door with a man with curly dark hair sitting at one of the computers. Tony was leaning against the side of the desk with a tablet in his hand. The two men were talking casually like they've known each other for years. "Hey man." Sam came over to them from one of the machines that looked like it could measure force and pressure, smiling at Steve before taking in what Bucky looked like. Bucky's eyes were wandering around the lab, scrutinizing every bit of equipment there was to glare at. "I kind of figured that he'd be tense about this so I came here to Bucky-proof everything before you came." Sam explained in a casual tone of voice, "Thanks to the reports we got in about Hydra, we managed to avoid any testing equipment that could remind him of anything he had to deal with back there."

"So that means no scary shiny chairs." Tony chipped in, waving his tablet in the air in a greeting, "Hey there Cap. Robocop. How are you doing? He kept you in one piece?" He gestured to Bucky with his eyes. Steve could pretty much _feel_ Bucky tense up behind him. Neither of them wanted to be reminded of what had happened the last time they were in a lab with Tony. "There haven't been any incidents since then. He's actually made amazing progress." Steve defended Bucky politely and Bucky relaxed again, leaning forward so that his chest was brushing against Steve's back with every inhale. It was a comforting gesture that put both Steve and Bucky at ease. "Well that's good then." Tony, completely oblivious to the brief moment of distress he had caused, whirled around and marched over to the desk again, "This is Dr Bruce Banner. He's one of the best doctors out there. He'll be conducting the tests today."

"You know I can introduce myself, right Tony?" Bruce muttered, getting up to shake Steve's hand. Bruce was a very observant man so he quickly realized that Bucky had no desire to touch anyone in the room besides Steve and so he left it, not wanting to put Bucky on the spot. In preparation for the tests, Bruce had read a lot about veterans who suffered from PTSD so he knew how bad things could get and according to Rhodes, who happened to be a good friend of Bruce and Tony, Bucky was the most severe case ever recorded in the United States.

"Why don't you explain what's gonna happen?" Sam suggested and Bruce nodded a little hastily. He seemed nervous, his mind shooting all over the place. It put Bucky on edge. He couldn't predict Banner's actions and that bothered him immensely. He wanted to move to stand between Steve and Bruce to give him a better chance at shielding Steve but he pushed down the instinct, telling himself that it was unnecessary. "Well we're going to start off with checking your endurance on the treadmill. We'll attach electrodes to you to measure your vitals while you run." He was looking everywhere but the people he was talking to and Bucky pressed forward against Steve's back, putting so much force into it that Steve had to lean back to stop himself from falling forward. Had he been that skinny kid from four years ago, he would have buckled under the force immediately. "After that, but only if it's okay with you, we'll take some blood for the computers to analyse while we run tests on the strength of your arm. Then we'll test your reflexes. Combat evaluation isn't necessary so we're going to skip that."

"Are you okay with all of that?" Steve turned to face Bucky who adjusted himself to stand normally again as soon as Steve's back was gone from his chest. He missed the warmth of Steve's back against him immediately, noticing that it had done a great deal to calm him down. Sam was watching the encounter curiously, remembering what Steve had told him about Bucky failing to utter his own opinion or what he wanted or didn't want to do. Bucky let his eyes pan to the treadmill in the back of the room while he thought. Even Tony gave him the time he needed to consider.

A needle in his arm… that was something Bucky wasn't particularly fond of. The memory of a thousand needles piercing his skin made him want to cringe. There was one needle in particular though… it had been a thick needle that had been pushed into the crook of his elbow roughly. A blue liquid had been pumped into his body and shortly after that, he had been writhing, screaming from the pain that spread through his body like a wildfire.

When he looked back at Steve, the memory vanished and he relaxed, relieved that he could still think clearly and that he hadn't hurt anyone by mistake. He wasn't in a Hydra facility, he reminded himself; he was with Steve and Steve was good.

"I'm fine with it." He assured them and was rewarded with a huge smile from Steve.  
Sam proceeded to take a seat at the desk to monitor the information relayed back to them from the machines. Tony moved to the treadmill, closely followed by a much calmer Bruce who had picked up a clipboard on his way there. Bucky looked at Steve for reassurance and Steve nodded at him, leading the way to the treadmill. "I see you're already wearing sport shorts." Bruce looked pleased, "I'm going to ask you to take off your shirt for me though. I need to put those electrodes on you." Bucky nodded, pulling his shirt off with one quick movement. The shirt was discarded on the floor but Bucky didn't make a move to get closer to Bruce. Bruce picked up the electrodes hanging from the hook on the machine and Bucky frowned; his eyes were daring Banner to try and touch him. Sure, Bucky was being cooperative, but that didn't mean he was an easy case.

"I'll do it." Steve stepped in quickly before anything could go wrong. Bruce looked relieved, as did Bucky and both readily accepted this alternative to anything that would have happened if Bruce had touched Bucky. Bruce told Steve where to place the round sticky objects and Steve followed his instructions to the tee, his mouth twisting into a concentrated frown while he did. Bucky watched Steve the entire time, concentrating on Steve instead of on the dormant aggression that was stirring, ready to fight off doctors, needles and the pain. Once he was hooked up to the machine that was now buzzing, recording all the information the electrodes picked up, Bucky stepped onto the treadmill. The contraption had looked big to Steve to start with, but he only realized that it was a heavy-duty treadmill when not even Bucky managed to make it look smaller. "I'm controlling the treadmill from here." Tony informed Bucky when he saw the soldier look for buttons to press, "Stay sharp and you shouldn't faceplant." Bucky's eyes narrowed at the sarcastic tone of voice Tony was using but he didn't say anything and soon he was too busy concentrating to think about Tony's audacity. His feet thudded against the treadmill a lot louder than was normal, the sound bouncing off the walls and ringing in Steve's ears. Even when Tony turned up the speed and his footfalls got louder and louder, Bucky didn't falter. He just kept on going and going. It took about an hour for him to start sweating and eventually Tony got bored and stopped the exercise. By then Sam and Steve were exchanging dumbfounded looks and Tony and Bruce didn't look too unimpressed either.

"So, who else is excited to see what his blood tests tell us?" Tony cheered while they made their way over to the desk.

"I definitely am." Bruce agreed, seeming totally immune to Tony's annoyingly hyperactive demeanour. The doctor pulled out one of the chairs for Bucky to sit on, looking at Bucky and then at Steve before saying, "Steve hasn't been taught how to take blood.". Everyone knew what that meant. The air suddenly felt heavier and painfully still. Sam was tense, as was Tony and the two watched Steve, Bruce and Buck carefully. "Will you sit down for me?" Steve asked Bucky gently and Bucky nodded, working his jaw while he took a seat on the chair. Steve crouched down next to him, taking a hold of Bucky's right wrist and holding onto it firmly, his thumb brushing over Bucky's skin soothingly. Bruce pulled over a pair of plastic gloves, the snapping sound they made when Bruce let go of them made Bucky flinch. "You're okay." Steve promised him. Bucky wanted to believe Steve. He wanted his body to believe Steve but it was yelling at him, telling him to get up and fight them off, to get out of there while he still could. This wasn't good. Doctors weren't good. They hurt him. They made him scream.

He clenched his jaw, forcing down the impulse to _hit_. "It's going to prick a little but that's it." Steve spoke up again soothingly, "I'm here for you Bucky. If it helps you, talk to me." Bucky studied Steve's face again the way he had when Tony had worked on his arm. He let Bruce slide an elastic band up his arm and fasten it around his upper arm. His body tensed, wanting to lash out but Steve, having noticed the shift in Bucky, gripped his wrist even tighter. It almost hurt Bucky but it was a good pain- grounding and firm and made him feel like Steve wasn't going to let him go.  
"Why aren't you as small as I remember?" Bucky asked the first question that came to his mind and he heard both Steve and Sam chuckle. Sam was still in his seat right next to them at the desk, watching the encounter with trained eyes. "Well, about half a year after you left for training camp, my asthma started to get better. Some people grow out of it and I guess I was one of them. After the asthma wasn't so bad anymore, I started going to gym to get stronger. Without you around, there was no one to bail me out of the stupid fights I always got myself into. I guess I wanted to be able to defend myself. Around about the time when you were probably done with basic and were shipped off…" Steve hesitated for a moment, the memory of Bucky going off to war unnerving him a little but he pressed on, "Around about that time I was scouted for the SWAT team that worked together with Shield, a security agency. I got even bigger working there, especially when I had a growth-spurt. It was either get stronger or give up and I'm not really the type of guy to give up. But you knew that already." Steve let out a huff of air, bowing his head, studying the lines and creases in the palm of Bucky's right hand. "Eventually, after another year, I was promoted to Captain." Steve didn't go on to the part where he was told about Bucky's death, didn't go on to tell him that he'd almost let himself die during one of his SWAT missions after that. He didn't tell him about how much he had cried, how much he had hated himself. He didn't tell him how much he had hurt.

Bruce Banner held up a glass tube filled with Bucky's red thick blood, smiling triumphantly. Bucky blinked, looking down at his arm where Bruce had taped a small bandage square to Bucky's arm to stop him from bleeding. He hadn't even noticed the prick from the needle. "Well done." Bruce commended him in that gentle voice of his, "So the worst part is over."

"Yeah, let's get back to the fun stuff!" Tony cheered, pointing to the machine that Steve had thought could measure force. There was a handle attached to a thick rubber band that looked a lot weaker than it probably was. On the other side, the machine had a round pad that one could punch and it would measure the velocity with which one struck. Steve would be lying if he said that he wasn't slightly excited to see what Bucky could do with that arm of his despite the incident with the training dummy having given him a good idea.

Bruce once again, patiently and elaborately, explained how the machine worked. Bucky was instructed to first pull at the handle with his right arm which he then did before swapping arms. The metal plates recalibrated as soon as his hand closed around the handle and he pulled. He took a few steps back when the rubber band began stretching. Steve watched in awe as the plates making up the surface of the arm shifted, mimicking muscles that were contracting. Eventually, after he had taken even more steps back, his arm began shaking and he stopped moving. "You done showing off?" Tony asked him with a spiteful smirk.

"Want me to break it Stark?" Bucky shot back edgily and Steve looked down to hide his smile when Tony's smirk fell right off his face.

"Could you do more?" Bruce asked him and Bucky nodded, "Go as much as you can. If you break it, you break it." Steve almost couldn't believe his eyes! Bucky strained his back, his neck and chest muscles, using his normal muscles for the first time during the second run-in of the exercise. Steve tried to watch the way the rubber band continued to stretch but his eyes kept flicking back to Bucky's impressive amount of muscle and the way they were _all_ straining against his skin now. His arm was pulled up to a ninety-degree angle and he twisted himself around, yanking at the handle so hard that the entire thing, including the rubber band, was ripped right out of the machine with a loud snapping noise. The rubber band recoiled, heading straight for Bucky who was still busy turning towards the machine again. Without thinking about what he was doing, Steve stepped forward, lifting his arms to shield his face and chest the moment the dark grey band lashed at him like an angry whip. He made a hissing sound when the rubber connected with his arms, making what felt like fire spread across the skin on his forearms. He cringed, wanting to whimper when the pain got worse, feeling similar and yet a thousand times worse than carpet burn. Bucky turned Steve around immediately, having dropped the handle. He inspected Steve's lower arms, frowning when he saw the red and partially bloody lines on his arms left by the rubber. "Why did you do that?" Bucky asked him sharply, anger lacing every syllable he spoke.

"You know why I did it." Steve replied stubbornly and yet in a much quieter tone, bending forward a little the longer the pain went on and the worse his skin felt. "Damn it Stevie I'm a super-soldier! I heal quicker than you do so it wouldn't have-."  
"Mattered?!" Steve matched Bucky's tone now, anger bubbling up in him like a volcano, threatening to erupt, "So you getting hurt doesn't matter?"

"That's not what I-."

"Yes, it is!" Steve interrupted Bucky again, "I know you don't care whether or not you get hurt but I do! Yes, I got hurt and I know that upsets you Buck, but you've suffered enough! I promised you that I'd make sure you never got hurt like that again and I'm intending to keep that promise!"

"Damnit Steve…" Bucky averted his eyes, looking back down at Steve's arms. The red surrounding the wounds was blooming out over the rest of the surrounding skin, making it look even worse. Bucky felt the anger drain out of him the longer he held onto Steve who made no attempt to move. Again, Steve had shown Bucky that he was more than just a weapon and the longer Steve did that, the more Bucky _wanted_ to believe him. "I could have dodged it." Bucky muttered half-heartedly, his mind bringing forth something along the lines of him apparently preferring to have the last word over little Steve. Except, Steve wasn't that little anymore…

"I wasn't about to take a chance." Steve stuck with his opinion stubbornly and it made Bucky want to chuckle. Another feeling welled up in Bucky and it made his face feel warm and his chest burn. His muscles twitched, almost like they wanted to do something out of muscle memory but Bucky's mind was stopping them. He shook it off quickly, noticing that the lack of knowledge about that overwhelming feeling made him edgy. Edgy wasn't good; it got Steve hurt.

"Banner." Bucky looked up at Bruce who looked incredibly stressed by the situation. Evidently the man didn't work well in loud or stressed environments. "Right." Bruce nodded, hurrying over to a set of drawers next to the desk. With Sam's help he got out everything he needed. Bucky made Steve sit down at the desk a little roughly, still angry at Steve for getting himself hurt. Steve didn't say anything to that. Bucky being mad at him for getting himself hurt was so… so _familiar_ … Steve smiled, looking down at his arms to stop Bucky from seeing his smile. Despite the agonizing, searing pain in his arms, especially when Banner doused it with disinfectant, he held onto the fact that Bucky was becoming more and more like Bucky; like Steve's Bucky. It made all of the pain worth it. If things like these brought more of Bucky back to him, then he'd let them do this to him every day for the rest of his damn life.

* * *

Once Steve's lower arms were bandaged up and numb from the disinfectant, they continued with the last test. Bucky was instructed to punch the round plate on the back of the machine that he had already half destroyed. His right arm did a remarkable job but his left… well… Bucky pulled his left hand back, balling it into a tight fist before bringing it forward with more force than any of them had ever seen. A cracking noise filled their ears first before the machine, that was bolted to the floor, came loose and skidded across the white tiles with a hair-raising screeching noise. It fell over, revealing the back that had a large crack running through the middle. The metal plate with its boxing bag-similar padding on the front, was completely deformed and proceeded to clatter to the floor. Steve was on his feet, noticing that Bucky's shoulders were heaving up and down. Sam had noticed it too and had gotten up as well, moving to stand next to Steve somewhat protectively. Bucky's eyes stayed on the mess he had made for a moment before he looked up at Steve. He noted the horrified look on Steve's face, feeling forced to take a step back and avert his eyes compliantly. The anger he had initially felt while punching the machine drained right out of him, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exhausted. Steve must have noticed the shift in Bucky because he took a step towards Bucky as if wanting to reach out to him but looked like he was stopping himself. Bucky watched Sam lift a hand to place it on Steve's back, making Steve flinch back to reality. Steve blinked, looking first at the floor and then at Sam who nodded at Steve with pursed lips. With a sigh, Steve let his shoulders drop and turned to Tony and Bruce who were watching the three a little warily. "I need a moment... Would you text me once you've got the results?"

"Sure thing Cap." Tony nodded slowly, "We were still going to do a test for his reflexes but I think we have a pretty good idea judging by what else he can do." He sounded unusually grounded, sober, as if he were talking at a funeral. Steve nodded a quick thank you to Tony and then to Bruce before excusing himself and walking out of the lab without looking at Bucky again. Tony and Bruce busied themselves at the computer, talking in hushed voices, each taking turns at pointing at things on the monitor. Sam was still watching the door through which Steve had left. He let out a silent breath of air, steeling himself for rejection or a snide comment before turning his attention to Bucky. The latter just stood there, staring at the floor looking forlorn. There was no tension in his body and his arms hung at his sides uselessly. "Bucky?" Sam said his name, not surprised when he didn't get a response from him, "Do you know why he left?" That got Bucky's attention and he lifted his head to look at Sam. He looked like he was expecting a slap to the face. Sam was amazed, taken aback by the extreme change to the way Bucky behaved now compared to how he had at the very beginning of his therapy. "You were angry at Steve for getting hurt right?" Bucky nodded, another thing that surprised Sam- Bucky was actually communicating with him without Steve being there, "And you took your anger out on the machine." Again, Bucky nodded in reply. He was being painfully honest but that was because he wasn't worried about giving the wrong answers to Sam. He knew that he outranked Sam, that he was stronger than Sam and on top of that- Sam just wasn't Steve.

Steve…

Bucky wanted to cringe the more he thought about the fact that Steve was no longer with him. He'd promised that he'd stay at Bucky's side the entire time but now he was gone and Bucky couldn't even find it in himself to be angry at Steve for it. "Steve knew that you were letting out the anger he caused." Sam continued after a short, contemplative pause, "My guess is that it kinda freaked him out. It's not every day that you see a guy singlehandedly take apart heavy duty testing equipment."

"I did something wrong." Bucky muttered but was met with a gentle smile and a firm head-shake.

"Just go talk to him." Sam nodded towards the door, "He needs you right now."

"Why me?" The question slipped out of Bucky's mouth and he bit his lip, not sure whether or not he wanted to hear the answer to that question. "C'mon man, Steve's always needed you. You're his best damn friend Bucky! There's no one else he'd rather talk to right now."

Because he was a person, not a weapon…

Bucky nodded, hesitating for a moment before walking out of the lab where Steve, much to Bucky's surprise, was waiting for him. Without looking at him, Steve gestured for Bucky to follow and the two walked down the corridor for quite some time until they came to an abandoned waiting room. Steve didn't say anything, instead took a seat on one of the metal chairs lining the walls. Bucky stayed standing, watching Steve a little anxiously. At first, when he had remembered Steve those few months ago, he hadn't wanted to be the old Bucky again, having been sure that that man was long gone. Now though, he wanted nothing more than to be that Bucky, to know what to say to Steve in a situation like this, to make things _better_. He dug deep, trying to find some sort of code or instruction as to what to do now. Hydra had given him all these instructions, surely James Barnes had had something similar?

 _C'mon Steve just talk to me already. You know I'll always listen to ya._

Bucky's eyes widened and he let muscle memory guide his body towards Steve. It was a feint memory, like a smell that he only just remembered from a long time ago. He couldn't place it but it felt right and brought forth feelings and actions. He knelt down in front of Steve who was once again too big to correlate with Bucky's foggy memory. Bucky placed his right hand on Steve's thigh and used his left hand to lift Steve's chin. The blonde's fringe, that was growing a little long, had fallen in his face a little. Bucky wanted to brush it out of his face but he stopped when Steve drew in a breath to speak. "What did they do to you to make you like this?" Steve's almost dead-sounding voice sent chills down Bucky's spine. His mind drew a blank, his body too scared to move and so he let old Hydra protocols tell him how to answer that question, afraid of making his own choices when Steve was like this. "I was strapped to a table and put on a drip. Blue liquid was pumped into me." He dropped his metal hand from Steve's chin and Steve kept his eyes on Bucky's, "At the time I didn't know what it was but after a while, my body began hurting. It felt like my body was rejecting itself, like the serum had lit a fire in my stomach that was burning me from the inside out, spreading through my veins. I begged them to make it stop or to just kill me but they put me in a cell, leaving me strapped to the bed. After two days of constant, searing pain and screaming… It just stopped. Ever since then I've been like this."

"You... you called it a serum?"

"Yeah. I heard Zola call it super-soldier serum." Once no more questions came his way, he came back to reality, watching Steve again with anxious eyes. He was frowning, deep in thought.

"Steve? Were you scared of me?" Steve blinked, looking up at Bucky. The latter's face was in no way as indifferent as it usually was. He looked worried and indecisive. "No way!" Steve exclaimed, getting up quickly and Bucky did the same, now standing directly in front of Steve with hardly any space separating the two. Bucky made no attempt to move away, happy to have as little space between him and Steve as possible.

Steve having left him in the lab had felt like punishment while this- Steve being close to him, Steve touching him, felt like he was being rewarded.

Although initially angry at Steve, Bucky found himself willing to do whatever Steve wanted him to if it meant that Steve would smile at him again. He didn't _want_ to feel like a weapon.

He wanted to be Bucky.

He wanted to be Steve's Bucky from four years ago.

"Why would you ask me something like that Buck?" Steve put a hand on Bucky's right upper arm reassuringly, smiling at Buck crookedly. Bucky leant into the touch of Steve's hand. "It was a little much to handle, that's all." Steve said, trying to erase the lost look in Bucky's eyes.

"I'm sorry." Bucky managed to say, the words feeling awkward on his tongue.

"You didn't scare me Buck. There's nothing for you to apologize for, buddy." Steve corrected him quickly, gently, "What they did to you scared me. There's a difference."  
"I understand." Bucky affirmed. There was nothing but fondness in Steve's eyes and Bucky knew that no-one had ever looked at him like that, not even before he left and got turned into the Winter Soldier. He remembered. He remembered that Steve was the only one who had ever looked at him like that, like he was invaluably precious. He _still_ looked at him like that, even after all of the things Bucky had done to Steve in the past months. The look evoked feelings that Bucky didn't understand; feelings that made his body feel jittery, like he was losing control of his well-trained muscles. It was unfamiliar and unsettled him a little. Bucky took a small step forward so that their chests were almost touching, yearning for comfort. Steve looked at him, puzzled, but didn't take a step back. Once again he felt the need to be as close to Steve as possible and once again he didn't understand where the urge was coming from. He didn't let his confusion put him on edge this time though, instead he focused on the way Steve smelt.

He smelt familiar, warm, sweet… like home.

"I want to tell you more." Bucky admitted.

"You can tell me as much as you like okay?" Steve moved back slightly and bent over a little, leaning his forehead against Bucky's chest, letting his exhaustion get the better of him and Bucky welcomed the touch with a relieved sigh. "Everything." Bucky muttered, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around Steve, "I want to tell you everything Steve."

"And I want you to tell me everything."

"Thank you, Steve."

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 **Yay okay there you go! I really hope you liked it!**  
 **Remember, I love hearing what you guys think so please throw them reviews at me :D**

 **Thank you so much for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Warning: This chapter contains description of violence and torture!**_

Here you have chapter 10! It's a short one but it's packed full of feels. I really hope you guys like it!

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Chapter 10

Steve took a deep breath, taking in the smell of wood that lingered in Sam's office like burnt incense. It had been quite a while since he'd been there last. Since then Sam's cases had been taken over by Natasha and other psychotherapists around New York, allowing Sam to focus solely on the case James Buchanan Barnes.

Sam threw his car keys into the top drawer of his desk before walking around Bucky and Steve to take a seat at one of the armchairs. The armchair he was sitting in stood adjacent to the couch and the armchair that the patients always sat in. It allowed Sam to take up the role of mediator between two parties if the need be. This time he was sitting off to the side to leave the floor to just Bucky and Steve. The tall former SWAT officer sat down on the couch like he had when he'd spoken to the elderly man. A pad of paper and a pen were lying next to him on the couch. Three glasses of water were standing on the coffee table in the middle of the sitting arrangement. Sam and Steve gave Bucky enough time to take in his surroundings. His hair was hanging at the sides of his face again loosely but had been washed and looked clean and healthy. Bucky had recently shaved, leaving his face smooth and him looking a lot neater.

Steve had to use all of his SWAT training to stop his leg from bobbing up and down nervously. He was terrified of what was going to happen today. He had promised Bucky to listen to everything he had to say, promised to stay strong and listen but he didn't know if he could do that. He didn't know if he could shoulder the same type of burden that Bucky was so relentlessly carrying on those broad shoulders of his. The tormented look that Bucky would sometimes get was enough to throw Steve head first into an ocean of agony. How was he going to deal with actually hearing about everything those monsters had done to him?

"Do you want to take a seat Bucky?" Sam finally decided to speak up and Bucky nodded slowly, taking one last look around before sitting down opposite to Steve. Steve and Bucky locked eyes immediately and Steve swallowed the nervous lump in his throat before it could choke him. "Where do you want to stark Buck?" Steve asked him, chewing the inside of his cheek when his voice came out shaky. Bucky looked down at his lap for a moment, examining his hands thoughtfully before looking up at Steve again. The look on his face had changed to a look that Steve had never seen Bucky wear before. It was a look of dread and uncertainty. It was the look Steve used to have every time he went to the hospital to visit his ill mother shortly before she passed away. It was the look Peggy had had on her face the moment Steve had told her that Bucky was still alive.

"There's something we have to do first." Bucky muttered, gesturing to the notepad and pen at Steve's side. Steve handed it to him with a confused frown and watched Bucky write down a series of words in a language that he didn't understand at first. "What are these?" Steve asked when Bucky pushed the paper over to Steve, across the table. "Trigger words." Bucky explained and Sam and Steve exchanged wary glances. They both remembered Rhodey telling them about the trigger words that had so much power over Bucky. Steve studied the writing, recognizing it as Russian very quickly. He had had Russian for one semester at school before giving that up and taking art instead. "Do you know what they mean?" Sam asked Steve who shook his head. Bucky took the paper back and began writing the English words underneath the Russian ones slowly in neat handwriting.

 _Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace. Nine. Benign. Homecoming. One. Freight Car._

Steve went over the words over and over again, reminding himself not to say the Russian words out loud. He knew enough Russian to be able to pronounce the words in such a way that they were halfway understandable. He looked up at Bucky with dread-filled eyes, now sharing the same look that Bucky had been wearing ever since he'd written down those words. "What do you want me to do with these?" He asked him slowly, drawing out every word in a futile attempt to prolong what he knew was about to happen. Bucky let out a slow breath before averted his eyes again, looking down at his lap now to hide his face. "Telling someone about what you've been through can be difficult." Sam interpreted for Steve, "What's more difficult is telling someone about being tortured and… killing… against your will."

"You're not going to do the talking, are you Bucky?" Steve's voice was raw now. His stomach had successfully cramped up and his usually so strong and unwavering hands were shaking. He knew what Bucky wanted him to do but Steve didn't know if he could do this for him. He didn't know if he could bear it. "I want you to trigger me." Bucky clarified in an equally as raw voice. He sounded like he had been crying but Steve hadn't seen Bucky cry since the day he'd seen him leave Steve's front porch the day he left for the army. "I don't know if I can do that Buck." Steve admitted sorely.

"I know." Bucky replied, "I know I'm asking a lot but please, don't ask me to tell you like this." Steve's eyes widened slightly when he realized that Bucky was still susceptible to receiving orders. Was it just from Steve or in general?

"For Bucky it'll be like reliving everything he's been through over the past four years." Sam added, knowing that using the triggers was the most pain-free way for Bucky to tell his story. At the same time, Sam also knew how painful all of this was going to be for Steve. Either way, Steve would suffer and the only thing they could influence was how much Bucky was going to suffer. "You won't remember telling me, will you? When you come back to your senses?"

"No I won't, not for a while, but I'll know that you know and that's all I want."

This is what Bucky wanted…

Steve hated the way Bucky's plan made sense; hated the way he was leaning more towards using those cursed words to spare Bucky the experience of having to retell the most painful tale this world had to offer. Steve lifted the piece of paper with the words into his hands, scrunching up the edges a little by mistake. Again, Steve felt like he had the day he'd been on the Cyclone with Bucky- ready to either feint or vomit. This was probably the first independent decision Bucky had made since Hydra got their filthy hands on him and yet Steve… he _couldn't_ bear the thought of doing this to Bucky, of doing the same thing to him that Hydra had.

"Steve. This isn't your choice to make." Sam added and Steve bowed his head. Damn it Sam was right! This was about helping Bucky, not about what Steve wanted or felt.

He clenched his jaw and nodded, reading through the words and practicing them in his mind.

"Bucky." Sam spoke up again and only Bucky looked at Sam while Steve continued to stare down the words in front of him, "Is it safe?"

"If Steve triggers me, it will be." Bucky said firmly, "I won't hurt him." He felt the need to add that and Sam nodded, seeming satisfied with Bucky's answer, "Steve? You'll have to address me as… 'soldat' when you're done." Bucky told him and Steve forced a stiff nod.

"Let me know when you're ready Buck." Steve drawled out the words half-heartedly and Bucky frowned.

"I won't ever be Stevie."

 _Stevie._

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, gathering up the fragments of his nerves into his arms and holding onto them tightly to stop himself from collapsing like a house of cards.

"Longing." The word felt strange to say for Steve but the pronunciation wasn't half as bad as Steve would have expected. "Rusted." Bucky's body went rigid and he pushed his back against the backrest of the chair. His breathing sped up and he clutched onto the armrests tightly, his fingers curling around the edges. Steve wanted to hesitate but Sam nodded for him to continue so he did. "Seventeen." Bucky's body arched a little as if he were in pain and he clenched his jaw so hard that Steve could hear his teeth gnash together. "Daybreak. Furnace." Steve's voice was getting thinner and thinner with every word he said. He was hurting Bucky and it was killing him. He was hurting his best friend. "Nine. Benign." Steve could see that Bucky was holding back a scream and it broke his heart and yet he continued with a shaky voice because this was what Bucky wanted, this was Bucky's choice and there was no way Steve was going to take that away from him, "Homecoming. One." Bucky's body jerked as if he wanted to get up to stop Steve from talking, like it was putting up the last bit of fight it had in it before it was too late. One more word. One more cursed word. For a short moment Steve wondered what would happen if he were to stop now. "Freight car." He forced the last word to leave his mouth before he could change his mind and Bucky's entire body went still. His eyes were closed and his breath was coming out in slow, controlled huffs.

"S… Soldat?" Bucky's eyes opened, first looking at the ground and then meeting Steve's gaze. Steve drew in a sharp breath when it felt like Bucky's eyes pierced right through Steve's own and directly into his soul, freezing part of him solid. A cold shiver ran through his entire body and his lips began trembling uncontrollably. Bucky's face was vacant, displaying no emotion whatsoever. His body was passive and yet he looked more intimidating than he ever had. He looked huge and strong and ready to do whatever Steve told him to do.

"Ready to comply." The words came out of Bucky's mouth in flawless Russian and Steve bent forward, covering his mouth with his hands when he felt his body jerk with a full-body gag.

"No." He said into the palm of his hand, "No. No. No. No… no!"

This was it. This was the result of four years' worth of torture, screaming, pain, wiping… this is what they had made Bucky into. This was the man that killed so many people, including children. This was the man Steve had tried to forget all about.

This was the Winter Soldier.

"He's only gonna listen to you Steve so you're gonna have to tell him what to do." Sam spoke up quietly yet Bucky's eyes stayed glued to Steve's. Steve didn't want to talk to the Winter Soldier. He wanted keep his hand right where it was, covering his mouth, and wait for this horrible state of mind to wear off. Why had he even agreed to this?! How was he supposed to talk to the Winter Soldier?

"I know it's difficult to do Steve but remember why we're doing this." Sam reminded his friend, "We're doing it because this is what he wants." He added and Steve let out a silent breath, looking from Sam back to the man sitting in front of him.

For Bucky.  
He was doing this for Bucky. This is what Bucky wanted and Steve was going to do whatever it took to honour Bucky's decisions because after what Hydra did to him, his decisions were precious. "Soldier?" The soldier lifted his chin slightly in acknowledgement of being spoken to and yet another cold shiver ran down Steve's spine. Steve understood why Hydra had treated the Winter Soldier like a pet. If they hadn't convinced themselves that he was worthless, they probably would have lost their minds dealing with someone this incredibly intimidating on a daily basis. It was like all of Steve's self-preservation instincts were yelling at him, waving flags, putting up billboards covered in neon lights- doing whatever they could to convince Steve to get as far away from this man as possible. "I want you to answer the questions I ask you." Steve forced his vocal chords to cooperate and he was slightly relieved when his voice came out sounding even vaguely confident. "Understood." The Winter Soldier answered in English this time, having adjusted to Steve's choice of language. The asset noticed Steve's uncertainty. He noticed that his handler seemed to be in pain and that without any threat seeming to be present. That was all the thinking he did though, there was no need for anything else. Steve took a deep breath before picking up the notepad, tearing off the front page with Bucky's trigger words on it and picking up the pen to take notes. He kept thinking back to the Bucky he cared about, kept telling himself that he was doing this for him! It didn't matter what Steve thought or felt- this was for Bucky! He steeled himself, clicking the pen before starting with the first question in a firm voice. "You were kept in Russia, am I right?"

"Affirmative."

"What did they do to you there?"

"I was injected with the super-soldier serum."

"What did that do to you exactly?" Steve interrupted before the asset could say any more.

"Enhanced reflexes, metabolism, speed, regeneration and strength." Steve nodded, jotting down notes while the Winter Soldier spoke. He found it distracted him a little, enabled him to build up a sort of distance to the entire matter. He didn't know if this was going to be the case for the entire time but he was willing to give it a try. "After that?"

"Wanted behaviour was encouraged and any unwanted traits or behaviour were eliminated."

"By doing what?"

"Conditioning."

"What do you mean?" Steve wanted to say Bucky's name but he knew that the name meant nothing to this man so he didn't, saving himself the heartbreak. "Desensitization was achieved by forcing me to eliminate prisoners. A shock collar was put around my neck and I was shocked when I displayed unwanted behaviour. Numerous different torture techniques were used to break my spirit." Steve averted his eyes, looking out the window at the blue sky for the sheer purpose of finding _something_ to distract himself with for a moment. The things the Winter Soldier was describing were horrible, things that would leave a person scarred for life and yet he said them without a single tremor in his voice. He sounded dead, like he was talking about someone he had absolutely no emotional attachment to, like all the things that were done to him were totally normal. "What did they do to you when you made mistakes?"

"Physical punishment was implemented. The guards would beat me when they were bored or when I did something wrong. They beat me every day when I wasn't in a coma. Mistakes were punished with pain. They dislocated my shoulder and put it back into place. The fingers on my right hand were broken one after the other before letting them heal while I was in a coma." Steve's breath hitched and he bowed his head, forcing himself to write down what the soldier had just told him. "How often…" He had to take a deep breath to stop himself from being sick, "How often did they put you into a coma?"

"As often as I was not of use. I was put on standby and woken up when they had an assignment for me. They took me off the machinery and hosed me down to wake me up. They wiped me and used the trigger words simultaneously to teach them to me."

"How often did they… wipe you?"

"A few times a day until it became easier to do."

Steve was falling apart.

They treated him like dirt and the worst part about it was that Bucky had been so brainwashed, so broken that he hadn't done a single freaking thing about it! He'd just let them do whatever they wanted with him. The way Bucky was now, Steve didn't doubt that he would let him do whatever he wanted with him. It's how they conditioned him.

God it was all so freaking _sick_! Every last monstrous detail of it!

"What else did they do?" Steve asked him in a low voice and Sam shot a glance at his friend. Something in Steve had shifted, had broken and it worried Sam. Steve's face was almost blank, masking what was going on inside of him. Maybe this had been a bad idea. This was probably far too much for Steve to handle and knowing Steve, he would force himself to endure it for Bucky's sake even if it drove Steve insane.  
"They tested my limits by drowning me and resuscitating me. The damage done to my lungs healed quickly once they had removed the water again. They tested my resistance to heat by putting me into a chamber that was heated enough to burn my skin. They did the same with cold. I was given the best combat training that Hydra had to offer. To teach me to withstand pain, they broke my ankles and forced me to continue combat training like that. It didn't take long before I learnt to ignore pain."

"What about the operations?" Sam saw that Steve's eyes were beginning to turn red and were starting to shimmer slightly.

"Operations were done without anaesthetic to save time and money."

"But that must have hurt!" Steve exclaimed but the Winter Soldier showed no reaction. His steel-blue eyes were so empty! His body was too tense, too ready to hurt. His aura was too menacing! He was too strong, too compliant, too broken. Too much like nothing Steve remembered. How could someone have done something like this to Bucky? To _his_ Bucky?!

He was out of questions and even if he _had_ any more questions for the soldier, he knew he couldn't bear to hear the answer to one more question. He felt empty, like he had the day he had been told that Bucky was gone. His eyes were almost half-lidded and his heart beat slowly. "Get up." He ordered the soldier who complied, doing as he was told without even asking why. Sam watched warily as Steve got up, not sure where Steve was going with this. Steve moved to stand directly in front of the asset who was now the same height as Steve. He seemed to stand up a little straighter than Bucky did. His eyes stayed on Steve the entire time, his body staying passive and compliant. "Do you know who I am?" Steve asked him and the soldier took a moment to look at Steve but there were no signs of him thinking about Steve's question. "You are my handler, sir."

"Right." Steve bowed his head, his face contorting for a moment before he could get it under control again. He lifted his arm and wrapped his trembling hand around the man's right wrist. The soldier showed absolutely no reaction to what Steve was doing. Unlike Bucky, he didn't lean away or towards the touch; in fact, his body didn't so much as flinch. "You let them hurt you." Steve muttered, sounding like he was in some sort of trance, "You could have killed every single one of them and yet you did nothing to fight them off because they took that right away from you, didn't they?" Again the asset didn't answer, probably because he had never been taught to answer a question like that. "I'm so sorry." Steve gasped, leaning his head against Bucky's chest, regardless of how much his own instincts were telling him to stay away from him. Steve buried his face in Bucky's chest, fighting back his tears desperately, biting down on his lip so hard that it drew blood that trickled out of his mouth and ran down his chin. "Please give him back to me." Steve begged, "Just give Bucky back to me… _please_!"

"Instructions unclear, sir. Clarification needed." Bucky replied monotonously and Steve cringed notably, curling into Bucky even more.

Sam bowed his head, looking down at his lap instead of at the two other men in the room. He felt like he was intruding on something incredibly intimate and personal. He wanted to leave the room to give Steve some space but he had promised Rhodey to stay with Steve during the whole thing. It was the only reason Rhodey had let them take this session to Sam's office instead of having it in Bucky's personal interrogation room. He kept asking himself what he would have done if Bucky had been Riley instead. It made him respect Steve even more. He was amazed at how Steve was taking this, amazed that Steve wasn't hammering against the soldier's chest, yelling at him to get the hell out of Bucky's head.

"What is your primary function?" Steve's toneless voice was muffled by Bucky's t-shirt but both Sam and the Winter Soldier could understand his question clearly. "I am a weapon created by Hydra to eliminate targets. I have not failed a single assignment since my activation."

"Well done on that." Steve muttered bitterly but didn't make a move to increase the distance between the two of them. He took in the way Bucky felt, realizing that he felt off, felt like someone else. How much he would give for Bucky to be back and for him to wrap his arms around him and tell him _everything's gonna be fine Stevie! I ain't leaving ya! Can't leave someone as hopeless as you! Gotta look after your sorry ass._

"Call me Steve."

"Steve."

It sounded so different when the Winter Soldier said it and it was the final straw needed to break Steve. His eyes glazed over slightly and his body swayed as if he were drunk. Sam got up immediately, moving to stand behind Steve to support him. He wrapped an arm around Steve's waist, taking a hold of Steve's left arm with his free hand. The asset's eyes flicked to Sam for a moment to assess the threat before focusing on Steve again when he came to the conclusion that the man didn't intend to harm his handler.

"Steve! Are you okay?" Sam asked Steve, leading him to the couch and helping him sit down. Steve leant into Sam's side and his head tilted to the side, landing on Sam's shoulder heavily. "Steve? Hey Steve can you hear me?"

No, Steve couldn't and even if he could, he didn't want to talk anymore. He wanted to stop talking, to stop feeling or thinking. His creative mind brought forth vivid images of what Hydra had done to Bucky and the more that happened, the deeper Steve sunk into his breaking mind. He was stuck in a nightmare, having to watch Bucky get beaten over and over again. He had to watch blood stream down his face. He had to watch them strap Bucky to a table and break his ankles, had to listen to Bucky scream at the top of his lungs. He had to see Bucky huddled into the corner of a cooling room, had to watch him scratch at the door of an oversized oven until Bucky's fingernails broke off and his fingers were bloody. He had to watch him writhe in pain after they had injected him with the serum, had to listen to him beg them to please! Please just kill him! Please, please make it stop!

Tears began streaming down Steve's still completely vacant face. He was staring ahead at the Winter Soldier who was looking back just as emotionlessly. He didn't move to help his handler. He didn't worry, didn't feel sad at seeing Steve so broken.

He just stood there and waited for further instructions while Steve fell apart in front of his eyes.

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I'm so sorry!

Reviews give me life so please let me know what you think!  
See you next week then and thank you so, so much for reading my ff!


	11. Chapter 11

_**Warning: This chapter contains mentions and description of torture!**_

Hey guys! Thank you so much for your reviews! It really means a lot to me! So here, just as I promised, chapter 11 of Remembering. It's a little calmer than the past two ones (giving my poor heart a break). I really hope you enjoy! And don't forget to leave a review! (They still give me life xD)

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 **Chapter 11**

"Barnes, James Buchanan. Rank, sergeant. 32557038…" Bucky whispered out weakly while he lay motionlessly on a metal table. His legs were strapped down, so were his arms. He flinched when he felt his metal arm recalibrate- a feeling he hadn't had the chance to get accustomed to yet. His left arm was a foreign object to him anyway. It was Hydra. It was made for killing innocent people. He wasn't going to kill innocent people, no matter how much they tried to force him to.  
"How are we feeling this morning Sergeant Barnes?" He didn't bother to look at the man that had walked into the stingy cement block of a room. He kept staring at the ceiling. Cold shivers ran up and down his body in dread of what was about to happen. He had lost track of the days completely, didn't know how long he'd been in here for. It was just one of the many tools Hydra used to break Bucky's spirit and remove any thread he had left connecting him to normality. His mind drifted to Steve who was probably still in Brooklyn, trying out for the army again. Thank God they hadn't taken him. Thank God that he wasn't going to be pulled right into hell itself. Bucky clung onto that while they began the procedure in the same way as they had the day before. Had it been a day? Maybe he'd been in another coma again, he couldn't remember. He felt something cold wrap around his big toe and he shivered, pinching his eyes closed. With one quick movement, the metal tongs were jerked to the side and a crack filled Bucky's ears at the same moment as searing pain shot up his foot and his leg. He held back his scream, regardless of how much his body was begging him to let it out. He heard a huff and the cold metal was wrapped around the next toe. Then the next and the one after that…

When there were no more toes left, they went on to his fingers. When there were no fingers left, they went on to the other bones in his hands and feet.

Bucky's voice was soon raw from screaming and he was dizzy. A single name circled around in his mind over and over again like an anchor, the only real thing in this world of pain and fear.

"Steve." The name slipped through his slightly parted lips just as another one of his bones was broken.

"What's your name solider?!" A gruff voice asked him and he sobbed, hitting his head back against the metal table.

"My name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes you little fuck-." His voice slipped into a bloodcurdling scream when a hot iron was placed against the balls of his feet.

They kept going, for days, weeks, months and eventually Bucky forgot Brooklyn, he forgot the war, forgot his name but through it all, even during the countless wipes, there was one name that stayed on his lips; a name he screamed at the top of his lungs although he couldn't remember why he was screaming it.

 _Steve…_

Bucky opened his eyes slowly, a frown drawing a line between his eyebrows. His body didn't feel cold like it usually did when he woke up from a coma but he couldn't remember what had happened last. "Sergeant Barnes?" Sergeant Barnes. Yes. He was Sergeant Barnes. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Something clicked in his mind and he shifted, sitting up slowly to look at the man who had just spoken to him. His frown deepened when his eyes came to rest on Colonel Rhodes. Why was Rhodes here? Why not his hand- Why not Steve? "How are you feeling Sergeant?" Bucky ignored Rhodey's question, letting his alert eyes wander around the blue-painted room. Where was he? It looked like a cheap hospital room but weren't hospital rooms white?

Where was Steve? Was Steve okay? His skin felt like it was covered in a thousand fire ants and he forced himself to his feet, looking around the room one more time to see if Steve was there. It was a futile, unnecessary gesture but it made Bucky feel calmer for at least another moment. "Where's Steve?" He asked, or more, demanded to know, locking his eyes with those of the Colonel in a silent dare to refuse him that piece of information. Rhodes was tense but he knew to hide it. Sam had assured him that Bucky wouldn't be a threat but that didn't stop Rhodes from feeling uneasy around Bucky, especially considering that Bucky looked like a gun ready to go off at any moment. He was different without Steve, reminiscent of the volatile man that they had hauled out of a maximum-security cell in an armoured vehicle. "Captain Rogers is at home. Some of his friends brought him there after your therapy session." Rhodey said. Bucky averted his eyes, confusion and anxiety creeping onto his features while he did so. "Sam is ready to take you to Steve's home if you want to see him." Rhodes added quickly when he saw Bucky's unstable state of mind threaten to go over the edge. Without a word, Bucky made his way out of the room, recognizing the corridor of the police station immediately. He looking around the corridor to find Sam, spotting the man standing at the reception desk, talking to the lady perched at the edge of her seat behind the wooden construction. His heavy footsteps echoed off the walls and must have alerted Sam to Bucky's approach because Sam straightened up and averted his eyes from the woman in favour of looking at Bucky. He greeted the taller man with the warm smile he always wore, keeping his body language open and calm. "Hey there Bucky. How are you feeling?"

"Take me to Steve."

"I'm doing fine thank you for asking." Sam muttered under his breath before saying a quick, maybe even slightly regretful goodbye to the woman behind the counter and making his way outside. Bucky followed him closely without a word. Every moment he spent not knowing how Steve was, felt like he was back in that heat chamber, his skin feeling like it was peeling off of his flesh and his metal arm- the thing felt like it was malfunctioning all over again. Bucky concentrated on keeping his breathing normal, knowing that Sam wouldn't let him see Steve if he noticed how erratic Bucky was. He was good at concealing his feelings though and so he switched back to old Hydra protocols and kept his body an empty canvas.  
Bucky got into the passenger seat of Sam's sun-warmed Mustang, closing the door a little too forcefully maybe. Sam pushed the key into the ignition but didn't start the engine just yet. Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of the black hoodie he was wearing to hide the tight fists his hands had formed. He felt the urge to punch something or maybe yank Sam out of the driver's seat to drive himself or hold a gun to Sam's head and tell him to _just drive_.  
"You don't remember what happened, do you?" Bucky didn't feel obliged to answer but he knew that if he wanted to see Steve, he would have to be cooperative.

"No."

"Steve broke down." Bucky sat up straight as an arrow, turning his head to look at Sam with wide eyes, "You remember asking him to trigger you, right?" Bucky nodded numbly. There was a feint, foggy memory of something like that having happened but he failed to form the context. His throat felt dry and the tight control he had over his body was slipping through his fingers. "Well I guess you could say that it was a little too much for him. I'm taking you to him because he needs to see you right now. He needs to see that you're back and that everything's alright."

"Is he okay?" He had to be okay! If Steve wasn't okay…. Oh gosh if Steve wasn't okay-!

"He'll be okay." Sam promised Bucky who looked like he was trying to blink away tears. The former soldier looked spooked, disconcerted; something that made Sam worry but he was well aware of the fact that Bucky wouldn't settle on seeing Steve at a later stage.

Bucky flinched when the engine roared to life. Sam eyed him for a moment, waiting for him to relax a little before putting the car into gear and pulling out of the parking lot in front of the police station.

The drive to Steve's apartment didn't take too long but it was filled with a tense silence. Bucky tried not to think about anything and yet what had once been like second nature to him when he was known as the asset, was now one of the most difficult things to do. His mind was racing and kept bringing forth reasons to blame himself for Steve's condition. Images of a sick, small Steve lying in bed kept coming back to him. He remembered making soup for that Steve. He remembered the worry that had tied a tight knot in his stomach while he fretted that his best friend might not make it. Bucky closed his eyes but the images kept coming, flashing behind his eyelids like a sepia movie on constant repeat.

"He'll be fine Bucky." Bucky's eyes flew open and he realized that his body was rigid. He chided himself for the lack of control over his body, forcing himself to relax again, "I know you're worried and that's totally okay. I'm worried too y'know." Bucky let out a slow breath, nodding in acknowledgement of what Sam had just said. Bucky watched the road for a moment, feeling oddly at ease all of a sudden. He hadn't done anything wrong. He wasn't being punished. They were taking him back to Steve. He was allowed to be close to Steve. He was being rewarded.

"What happened?" Bucky asked when they came to a standstill at a red traffic light. Sam looked at Bucky briefly before focusing on the traffic light again, his eyes following the people that were rushing across the street. He gave himself a moment to decide on what to tell Bucky and which details were wiser to omit.

* * *

By the time they arrived at Steve's apartment building in Brooklyn, Sam had finished telling Bucky most of what had happened. The parts about the Winter Soldier hadn't phased Bucky in the slightest, the end though, the part about Steve crying and breaking down seemed to shake Bucky right to the bone. He had stared ahead of himself for the rest of the drive, looking like a pale statue. That is, until the car came to a halt at the side of the road. His large body shifted and he pulled at the handle immediately, forcing the car door open. As soon as Bucky was out of the car and had looked up at the apartment building, he froze, his eyes widening.

Steve hadn't moved. He still lived exactly where he had when Bucky had last visited him. He knew that the walls of Steve's apartment were all a creamy beige, knew that the wood panelling on the floor was fake. He knew that the water in the shower tended more towards way too hot than anything else. He knew that the working surface next to the stove had a tiny chip in it from when Steve had dropped a pan on it. He knew about the picture Steve had hanging in the living room of his mother. He knew what sound the doorbell made and that the apartment smelled so much of Steve that it could sometimes be slightly overwhelming in the most positive way imaginable.

But why did seeing this place hurt so much?

"Are you okay Bucky?" Sam's voice yanked Bucky back to reality and the latter nodded, letting out a breath he had been holding in.

"I remember this place." Bucky answered distractedly, "I remember it." He repeated, as if he was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he _remembered_.

"That's a good thing though." Sam offered Bucky an encouraging smile, "I'll let you in and then I'll be on my way. I still 'got some errands to run." Bucky didn't respond, instead took in all the different details of the small apartment building, trying to see what else he remembered, trying to figure out why it hurt to be here again.

Sam opened the door to the building, letting Bucky in first to see if he knew which one was Steve's apartment. True enough, Bucky walked up to the first door on the left on the ground floor, stopping in front of it and waiting for Sam impatiently. Sam's eyebrows arched in surprise but he didn't say anything, instead unlocked the door with the spare key Steve had given him once.

As soon as Bucky heard the lock click, he pushed the door open, walking in without hesitation. Sam smiled, closing the door behind Bucky and turning to leave again with his smile not faltering for a second.

He had a good feeling about this.

* * *

Bucky had stopped in the entrance hall.  
The entrance area was made up of a corridor decorated with numerous framed pictures hanging on the walls. The door to the left led to the bathroom while the one on the right led to Steve's study which he often misused as an art studio. The corridor opened to the living area complete with kitchen. The last door, which was closed, was situated at the far end of the living area between the living room and the kitchen. Steve was behind that door- Bucky was sure of it. His feet carried him over the fake wood panelling swiftly until he was standing in front of the door. He felt odd, maybe nervous? He didn't quite remember what nervousness felt like. He shook the feeling off quickly and pushed down on the door handle, making his way into Steve's bedroom quietly.

Steve was lying in his bed with his eyes closed. It was still the same bed from all those years ago. Bucky faintly remembered spending a lot of time sitting on that bed, watching Steve sketch. The bedframe was made of dark wood that stood in sharp contrast to the beige walls. The duvet was blue with the pillowcase being a slightly darker shade of blue. Steve's face was vacant, pale and his hair was a mess. The skin around his eyes looked swollen and red, making Bucky sink into himself.

"Steve…"

Steve heard his name, knew that it belonged to him and yet he didn't want to respond. He didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to face the world again. He wanted to stay just like he was. He wanted to stop thinking, stop talking, stop feeling! The bed next to Steve dipped and part of him, probably the part with all his SWAT training, wanted to open his eyes to look at who it was but the part that was still broken won over in the end. "Stevie… look at me." His heart felt like it had skipped a beat and although he still didn't want to open his eyes, his eyes did whatever the voice told them to. He squinted against the light for a moment, resisting the urge to groan when the sunlight streaming through his open curtains hit his pupils. He stared up at the ceiling resolutely, studying the cracks that he knew off by heart by now "Steve it's me- Bucky." Steve's tired eyes shifted to look at Bucky and the latter cringed when he saw how empty but sorrowful his eyes were. Eyes looked like that after a person had cried enough tears to empty out all the sadness they had carried with them, leaving them feeling numb and empty. Had he been selfish asking Steve to listen to what had been done to him? Had he been selfish for wanting Steve to know? To understand? Sam had said that everything was okay… was it really? He wasn't being punished and yet… he felt pain. Pain was punishment and Bucky felt he deserved it. It was his fault that Steve was like this, after all.

"Buck?" Steve's voice was rough form lack of use but still, Bucky was relieved that Steve was talking.

"Yeah. It's me."

"Bu-." Steve took in a sharp, shaky breath, "Bucky!" All at once Steve's eyes came to life and he sat up as if he'd just been shocked by electricity. It was like Steve was only really _looking_ now that he realized who was sitting in front of him. Bucky only just had enough time to register the anxious look on Steve's face before said face was buried in Bucky's chest. He was pushing against Bucky's chest with so much force that Bucky was sure he'd get bruises from it but that didn't matter- they'd disappear soon enough anyway. "Oh my gosh Bucky!" Steve whispered breathlessly, moving to wrap his arms around Bucky's neck and pull him closer. He did this, again, with so much force that Bucky was pulled forward, forced to lean over Steve. He ended up leaning over him with his legs pressing against Steve's thigs and a hand placed on each side of his head. Steve pulled himself up towards Bucky, lifting himself off of the mattress and pushing his upper body flush against Bucky's. A wave of goosebumps rushed through Bucky at the same time as the instinct to free his neck rose in him. He forced it down though, bracing his arms a little more to carry both of their weight. "Bucky I'm so sorry!" Steve was totally disconcerted, his composure completely dishevelled and probably still lying on the floor of Sam's office. Bucky let Steve hold him for a moment longer until the need to see Steve's face became too strong to ignore. He pried Steve's arms off of his neck carefully, letting Steve back onto the mattress before settling down next to Steve, his back resting against the headrest of the bed. "Sam told me what happened." Bucky said calmly after Steve had calmed down a little. Everything was okay now that he was with Steve again. Now all he had to do was make sure that Steve was going to be okay. "How much?" Steve bowed his head like a child afraid of being scolded.

"A little bit of what you asked me and then that you broke down."

"Great." Steve huffed, rubbing his face with his hands, still looking slightly dazed, if not disorientated.

"How are you Steve?" Bucky leant to the side a little, his right arm pressing into Steve's left.

"I don't know." Steve admitted quietly, looking up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers to Bucky's questions.

"I'm… sorry for what happened." Bucky said, matching Steve's quiet tone.

"It's not your fault Buck." Steve was quick to object and did it in such an earnest way that Bucky had no choice but to believe him, "It was good that you told me all of that! Now that I know what happened to you, we can help you a lot more. Besides, I _wanted_ to know what happened to you Buck." Bucky didn't seem completely convinced to Steve but Steve knew that Bucky rarely disagreed with what Steve said nowadays. Sometimes Steve wished he would but he was confident that he would again with time. "Why does it hurt?"

"Why does what hurt Buck?" And just like that their roles were reversed again and Steve was ready to be there for Bucky all over again. Bucky accepted the change but part of him knew that Steve shouldn't be trying to shoulder more, knew that he should stop relying so much on Steve but he couldn't- no matter how much he wanted to be there for Steve instead, he wasn't ready. "Why does it hurt to be here?" Steve's eyes widened at Bucky question. He stared at Bucky for a moment before averting his eyes, looking ashamed and angry. "You don't remember, do you?" It was a rhetorical question so Bucky waited, "The last time you were here… we had a fight." Out of habit Steve's eyes found the framed photograph on his wooden dresser. Bucky followed Steve's eyes. He recognized the blond as Steve, the Steve from his memories; small, frail with arms as thin as sticks and long, bony fingers. The other man… was that him? Was that what he had looked like before Hydra had taken him and turned him into something he wasn't? Bucky got up from the bed, walked over to the dresser and picked up the picture with his right hand. He studied the two men on the photo critically, wanting to commit what he saw to memory, a concentrated frown on his face. The brown-haired man had his arm around Steve who had his arm wrapped firmly around his waist. They were both grinning. This was the man Steve remembered. This was his Bucky. It felt strange for Bucky to look at a photo he couldn't remember having been taken. On top of that he felt like he was looking at a stranger. He considered his short brown hair in the photo, wondering if Steve would like it more if he had short hair like that again. "That picture was taken on my eighteenth birthday at Peggy's house." Steve finally decided to speak up, "Up until now it's my favourite photo of the two of us." Bucky's mind lingered on the 'for now'. This photo was the definition of joy; how did Steve want to trump a photo like this with Bucky the way he was now?

"You really don't remember what happened the day you left, do you?" Steve's voice sounded subdued and it drove Bucky to tear his eyes away from the photo and put it back down again. He turned back to Steve who looked small and vulnerable, his shoulders slumped forward as if he were trying to hide. Something in Bucky clicked and he walked over to the bed without thinking, sitting back down next to Steve so closely that their shoulders pressed together. "I don't." Bucky admitted and Steve let out a slow breath. Steve wondered whether or not he should just wait until Bucky remembered all on his own or whether he should just tell him. He knew that Bucky was bound to want to know the story now that Steve had brought it up like this. The problem was, Steve really wasn't very proud of what had happened. "Shortly after your 23rd Birthday you enrolled in the army. You wanted to get into the 107th, the special forces division." Steve started quietly, tracing patters on the duvet that covered his thigs, his eyes following the movements his fingers made, "Your father had served in the 107th so it was a pretty big deal for you. I tried to support you wherever I could. I even tried to enrol myself. They didn't take me of course." Steve chuckled sadly, "I mean I was far too skinny back then and my asthma was a quick deal-breaker. They took you- of course they did- and you left for basic a few weeks later." Steve paused, swallowing hard before pressing on, "After your training, you were given a day to say goodbye to relatives and friends before you were to leave for Afghanistan with the 107th. You came to my apartment wearing the uniform they gave you. It suited you." Steve's usually bright and expressive eyes were dull and distant and it made Bucky want to say something or do something to comfort Steve but he chose to listen instead. "I was so angry; more at myself than anything else but in the end, I let it out on you. I didn't let you in, refused to talk to you properly. I told you to get lost, shoved your promises to stick around and look after me in your face. God I was so stupid." Steve lifted his hands to cover his face, "That was the last bloody thing I said to you before you had to leave. Eight months later, two men from the army were standing at my door with their stupid army hats in their hands, offering me their condolences."

"I told you not to do anything stupid until I got back." Bucky muttered, "Then I left and took a cab to the train station. I had wanted you to come along until the very moment I had to leave but you refused to even look at me."  
A dry sob escaped Steve's mouth and Bucky lifted his arm out of instinct and Steve accepted the offer readily, pushing into Bucky's right side. "I'm so sorry Bucky." Steve whispered sorrowfully, "I should have let you in. I should have hugged you and told you that I support you. I should have gone out with you to enjoy your last day, should'a made you a nice meal, sat down with you to watch some TV. I should have done _something_... anything. I should have been a better best friend. I'm so, so sorry!" Those were all the words Steve had wished he could have told Bucky ever since he'd been told Bucky was dead. A weight lifted off Steve's shoulders and he sighed a quivering sigh, bowing his head as if exhausted.  
Bucky felt something rise up in him, something that reminded him more of the man in the photograph on Steve's dresser. He let old memories guide him, let them tell him what to do, what to say, knowing that the man in the photo knew how to make Steve feel better. "S'fine Steve. I'm back aren't I? I said I'd be back and I am. There's nothing you need to apologize for. I'm not mad at'cha or anything. I hated myself for leaving you so I didn't blame ya for being mad. I could hear that you were crying and I wanted to punch myself in the face for hurting you. I just wanted to do the right thing, the way you did too."  
Steve blinked up at Bucky through his lashes, trying to convince himself that Bucky had really just said all that, and that he sounded more like the Bucky from four years ago than he ever had. "Thanks Buck." Steve smiled at Bucky, looking relieved and like Bucky had just hung the moon in the sky for him and Bucky realized, much to his relief, that he had acted appropriately. Bucky felt strange, like something was bubbling up in him steadily. It was the same sort of feeling he used to get when he was out on long assignments and the trigger words and the wiping would start wearing off. Hydra had called it malfunctioning, saying that he had to go in for maintenance directly after the assignment to prevent any lasting damage. He had believed them, of course he did. Now he knew better though...

"32557038" He formed the numbers on his lips soundlessly, letting his eyes find the photo taken on Steve's Birthday.

This wasn't malfunctioning.

This was Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

* * *

There you go!  
Hopefully Steve will be back to his old self soon!

I really hope you enjoyed the chapter. Like I said, it was more of a quiet one. Please let me know what you think and thank you SO MUCH for reading my ff!  
See you next week~


	12. Chapter 12

Hey guys! Sorry for the one day delay! Yesterday was crazy so I didn't manage to post the next chapter. BUT here you have it! I'm busy editing chapter 15 at the moment actually and my beta reader gave me some cool ideas which will make the fanfic a little longer but I hope you guys don't mind!  
Anywho, I really hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for reading this far! It really means a lot to me!

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

"Steve are you sure you don't want to be taken off the case?" Rhodey leant his elbows on his desk, entwining his hands into a ball onto which he rested his chin. "I'm sure we can find someone who can take your place until you've recovered."

"With all due respect, Colonel," Sam spoke up for Steve who was staring at his lap, "but I doubt you're going to find a single person alive who can achieve what Steve has achieved with Bucky. If you take Steve off the case now and replace him with someone new, you'll be reverting any progress Bucky has made in the past six months. You might as well just stick him in a cell and keep him there forever."

"I understand that but have you had a look at Steve?" Rhodey muttered. Sam's jaw clenched. Of course he'd had a look at Steve! He'd been with Steve every day since Bucky had managed to bring Steve back to reality. It had been a week now and still Steve didn't seem quite like his old self again.

"I'll be fine." Steve insisted, raising his head slowly, "I just haven't been sleeping very well, that's all."

"You have nightmares about what happened to Barnes, don't you?" Rhodey asked, looking grave when Steve nodded.

"All it means is that I'm going through what Bucky has been going through ever since the wiping wore off on him." Steve said, "We're in this together and I'm not bailing out on him now- in fact, I wasn't planning on ever bailing out on him so that's not even up for discussion."  
Sam smiled, bowing his head to hide it from Rhodey who looked rather unnerved by now. "Steve there's only so much a man can take." He insisted and of course Sam knew this just as well as Steve knew it but both of them knew that as long as Steve had Bucky, he could face the world one day after another. It was what Sam had felt like in the middle of a war zone with his wingman Riley at his side- no matter how many bullets were being fired at them, Sam was strong with Riley at his side. Steve felt the same with Bucky and Sam knew that Bucky felt the same with Steve.

"Steve if you don't look after yourself, who will?" Rhodey tried again.

"Bucky and yours truly of course." Sam chipped in and Steve gave him a thankful smile, "We'll work this out. I'm a trained therapist so Steve can talk to me if he needs to do some venting. We got this."

Rhodey didn't seem very pleased when he dismissed the two of them. Steve on the other hand, looked visibly relieved. He wanted to continue walking once they'd left the office, get as far away from the police station as possible, but Sam took a hold of his wrist, stopping Steve.

"What is it?" Steve asked, turning to face Sam who moved to lean against the wall casually.

"What's your game plan Captain?" He quirked his eyebrow at the end of the sentence in an implied joke and Steve caught himself chuckling at that.

"There was a time where you were telling me what to do, remember that Sam?"

"Yeah and then that big lump of a James Barnes showed up and you were showing up my therapeutic skills like a champ."

"You know it's only because it's Bucky, right?" Steve smiled, feeling his cheeks warm at the compliment he had gotten from Sam.

"Probably. But consider this: Bucky probably would have killed me at the very beginning of his rehabilitation if I had just walked in there like you did." Steve tilted his head, scratching his temple while he thought about that. He had to admit that Sam had a point.

"And I would have refused to use the trigger words on Bucky." Steve countered.

"Fair enough." Sam huffed, straightening up again and putting his hands on his hips, "So we're a good team."

"I guess we are." Steve nodded, looking slightly more upbeat than he had in the past week, "So you wanna know my plan?"

"Like a girl waiting to see the next episode of Vampire Diaries." Steve couldn't help but grin at that, shaking his head at Sam's sense of humour that honestly, had cheered Steve up on more occasions than he cared to count. "Do you think it's too early to meet someone he used to know?"

"Has he remembered the person?"

"He has."

"Then what are we waiting for?!"

Bucky was waiting in the reception area, his eyes panning to the corridor that Steve had walked into every now and then. When Steve emerged with a gentle smile on his face, Bucky was on his feet in no time, standing ready to follow Steve wherever he wanted him to go. Steve looked relieved, walked with more of a spring in his step. Bucky felt some of the nervous tension drain from his body.  
Steve was getting better.

"Thanks for waiting." Steve's smile widened when Sam and him came to a standstill in front of a very expectant looking Bucky.

"Sure." Bucky looked at Sam shortly for a hint as to why Steve looked so happy but Sam's face was unreadable.

"Are you in the mood to go for a little trip outside of the city?" Steve asked him and Bucky's eyebrows furrowed. He tried to think of something that was located outside of the city but his mind ran a blank. "I am." If Steve was coming with him and if this was a way to fill in another blank space in his memory, then he would go. "Sam do you think you could drive us?" Steve gave Sam a pleading look that reminded Bucky of a Golden Retriever puppy begging for a treat, "I don't think Bucky's ready to face the subway yet."  
"I don't think the subway's ready for Bucky." Sam pointed out and while Bucky didn't understand the joke, Steve laughed, nodding in agreement, "Well then come on you two." He gesutred for them to follow and they did, Steve a lot more eagerly than Bucky.

Steve settled into the seat behind Sam while Bucky sat next to him. The Mustang roared to life and this time Bucky didn't flinch. Sam made a mental note of that.

* * *

They drove for quite a while and the longer the drive took, the more uneasy Bucky felt. His left hand clenched and unclenched, the plates recalibrating more than they needed to. He then proceeded to fumble with his hair, undoing the bun before stuffing his hair back into one, groaning when a few strands of hair fought the confinement of the elastic and ended up flopping back into his face. "Here." Steve pulled out a pen he carried with him in his leather jacket which he proceeded to pull off of his shoulders. He presented Bucky with his right arm that lay bare up until just above his elbow.

"Draw." He instructed his friend gently when Bucky looked connfused. Bucky took the pen a little tentatively into his right hand, inspecting it a little while Steve watched him. It was then that it occurred to Steve that that must have been the first time since he'd left for Afghanistan that Bucky had held a pen. He moved his arm so that it was lying across Bucky's lap, making it easier for Bucky to draw on. The former soldier used his left hand to steady Steve's arm. The metal felt cold against Steve's skin. When Bucky began drawing, first very carefully and then a little more firmly when he realized that it wasn't hurting Steve, Steve looked out the window with a gentle smile. He didn't miss the smile Sam was giving him in the rear-view mirror. The gentle strokes of the pen against Steve's arm were almost therapeutic and he realized that the action didn't just seem to help Bucky, but him as well. The repetitive movement calmed his fretting mind and he leaned back, his shoulder pushing against Bucky's upper arm a little. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine what Bucky was drawing, like a game he use to play with Bucky where he would draw patterns onto the other's back and Bucky would have to guess what he was drawing.

* * *

"Steve?" Steve opened his eyes, not being able to remember when he'd fallen asleep. The car was still moving so they hadn't arrived and Bucky was still drawing on his arm but Sam was looking at him in the mirror now, "Sorry for waking you."

"No problem." Steve straightened up a little and Bucky waited for Steve to stop moving before continuing his activity, "Where are we?"

"I think we're almost there. You're gonna have to tell me which house to stop in front of." Steve nodded and Sam focused on the road again. Steve risked a glance at Bucky, finding him still completely focused on his drawing. It was the first time Steve had looked at Bucky since the man had started doodling on his arm. There was a light frown of concentration on his face but other than that he seemed at ease. Steve's fond eyes moved to watch the pen Bucky was moving against his skin. There were small renditions of old memories that Bucky had regained all over Steve's skin. A small Ferris wheel like the one at Coney Island. Ice-cream on a stick like the ones they would eat during summer. Rolled up newspaper, a Christmas Tree, the emblem worn by sergeants. Bucky had even drawn a hot dog with amazing detail, making Steve smile. He was busy on something that didn't look much like anything at first but Steve quickly realized that it was a word in Russian. "What's it mean?" Steve asked Bucky whose eyes flicked up to Steve for a short moment before he continued. Steve left it, despite how much he wanted to know what that word meant.

Soon Steve was too busy watching the road to worry about what that word could mean. He'd look it up some other time. He had an astounding photographic memory so he was sure he'd remember what the word looked like.

The Mustang turned a corner and they drove onto the road they had been heading for. "This is it. 'Should be the fifth house on the right." Sam nodded, pulling onto the curb carefully as not damage his tires or startle Bucky who was still drawing.

"Thanks for driving us Sam." Steve thanked him earnestly, "It really helped a lot."

"Sure thing man. I'm happy to help where I can. Just text me when you want me to pick you up."

"I will." Steve undid his seatbelt and the pen was removed from Steve's arm. He took the now warm pen back from Bucky and shoved it into the inside pocket of his leather jacket that he pulled over his shoulders again. He made a mental note to make sure that he always carried a pen with him in the future.

Bucky waited for Steve to get out of the car first before opening his door and getting out himself. Steve still said something to Sam through the driver window and Bucky took the opportunity to take in his surroundings. He considered the garden in front of him idly at first, that is, until flashes of memories came back to him. They whirled around in his mind like foam being stirred into a Cappuccino. He knew this place. The smell of freshly mown grass, the way the sun fell onto the terrace, the white picket fence, the flowers, the quaint house and the stone path that led up to the patio- all of it seemed oddly familiar. The bench on the patio didn't and Bucky figured that it must have been added after he'd left.

"Does any of it ring a bell?" Steve asked once he'd drawn up next to Bucky and Bucky flinched, clenching his metal hand, ready to strike, "Hey." Steve soothed him and Bucky's hand unclenched again and the tension in his body ebbed away, "Sorry for startling you."

"No it's fine." Bucky shook it off quickly, "It does seem familiar." Sometimes remembering made Bucky feel disconcerted and anxious. It was when he remembered only fragments or feelings that were taken completely out of context. This was one of those times. All of it seemed like nothing more than a Déjà vu that Bucky wasn't even sure really existed. He associated the place with positive feelings but that was about it. "I've got your back buddy." Steve pulled an arm across Bucky's shoulders, letting his hand rest on the opposite shoulder to the one he was standing next to. They walked up the porch like that and the closer Bucky got to the front door, the more nervous he felt. It felt like electrical currents running through Bucky's veins, buzzing, making his muscles twitch uncomfortably.

Steve ran his hand through his blond hair again a little nervously and Bucky watched him do it. "Do you remember who lives here?" Steve asked Bucky who averted his eyes as soon as Steve looked at him. Suddenly his hands itched for Steve's pen again so that he could draw on his arm.  
"It's alright." Steve spoke up again when it was obvious that Bucky was struggling to find an answer. Steve stretched out his hand and pushed down on the doorbell firmly, taking a step back from the door and Bucky follow his lead.

"Coming!" A woman sang from inside and yet another barrage of images flashed through Bucky's mind. Peggy… Peggy Carter. Right. The woman who always smelt of roses and freshly brewed tea. Her name had popped into Bucky's mind at random about a month ago and he had asked Steve to tell him everything he knew about her. Steve had been able to tell Bucky enough to fill a whole two pages with information about Peggy. She was like a grandmother to them. She loved them dearly and according to Steve, they loved her just as much. Steve watched a wide variety of different emotions project onto Bucky's face all at once, his facial muscles twitching and his mouth pursing into a tight line. "You remember Peggy." It wasn't a question, more of a statement and yet Bucky nodded for the sake of reacting in some way. Peggy Carter lived in this house. A gentle flutter of excitement bubbled up in Bucky and yet dread underlined that feeling like a bitter aftertaste. He didn't remember much about Peggy, didn't remembering feeling anything towards her. He only knew that she meant something to him from what Steve had so vividly described to him. He also didn't know which Bucky Peggy was expecting. Was she going to be disappointed? What if she didn't like what she saw? Was she going to be scared? Before Bucky could sink deeper and deeper into his solicitous about the situation he was in, Steve gripped Bucky's shoulder firmly, grounding him just in time for the door to open.

Peggy opened the door all the way, standing in the entrance in a delicate blue dress with her beautiful eyes trained on Bucky. Bucky shifted, moving a little closer to Steve for support. He felt strangely uncomfortable under her testing gaze which was unusual for him. Usually he wouldn't back down from direct eye-contact, only when told to by his handler. Although she was obviously taking in every detail of him, her gaze was soft and loving and Bucky picked up a hint of sadness in her eyes.

Peggy saw the tormented look in Bucky's eyes and it told her all of the things that Steve had shared with her the last time he had been there. She saw how differently he held himself and the way he was watching her warily with eyes that were simultaneously watching his surroundings. His hair was tied back into a messy bun, showing her his entire face. It was still the same handsome face from five years ago but it had more worry-lines to show for what Bucky had gone through. Peggy took a step towards Bucky, reaching out her hand as if touching him was the only way to convince herself that he was real. Steve felt Bucky tense up beneath his hand and he started rubbing soothing circles against Bucky's shoulder blade, loosening the tension again immediately. Peggy's hand stopped next to Bucky's face as if asking permission and Bucky gave a quick, stiff nod. He knew how important this was to Steve. He wasn't allowed to mess this up! He knew that Steve wanted him to let Peggy touch him so he let her. The fact that she was a lot smaller than him also helped keep his instinct to fight her off, in check. Her hand came to rest against his cheek gently, her thumb brushing over the stubble on his jawline so carefully that Bucky hardly felt it. The touch wasn't forceful or invasive in any way. It brought forth an image of a woman with long brown hair looking down at him with a fond smile and doing exactly what Peggy was doing to him. His chest tightened with sorrow and he forced the image away quickly.

"Oh Bucky." Peggy breathed out his name so delicately that he almost didn't hear it, as if it was nothing more than a whisper on the wind. Something in Bucky's stomach clenched and a lump formed in his throat.

"I'm back." He uttered for lack of anything better to say and Peggy laughed, stroking her fingers along his jaw one last time before letting her hand drop. "Welcome back Bucky."

Steve noticed the tears in Peggy's eyes so he opened his arms to draw her in and she accepted the offer readily, burying her face in his chest, smiling while tears ran down her face. "He's alive Steve." She whispered into his shirt so that only Steve could hear and he let out a slow breath, resting his head on top of hers.

Bucky watched the embrace a little awkwardly. He saw the way Steve's arms were wrapped around her completely, his fingers interlocking on one of her shoulders. He saw the fond smile on Steve's lips and the way his head rested against the top of Peggy's head.

Bucky looked away.

* * *

"There's actually something I need your help with!" Peggy spoke up after Bucky and Steve had finished their drinks. Bucky had had coffee while Steve had gratefully accepted a cup of hot Earl Grey tea. Steve's face lit up immediately and he shifted to sit at the edge of the sofa he was sitting on with Bucky close at his side. "How can we help?"

"Do you want to follow me?" She asked with a smile. Steve got up immediately and Bucky followed suit, keeping his left hand in his hoodie pocket the way he had ever since Peggy had laid eyes on him on the front porch. They followed Peggy through the kitchen that still smelt of a delicious mix of aromatic coffee and fresh tea. There was a narrow glass door that opened to an equally as narrow flight of stone stairs that touched down on the lush grass of Peggy's backyard. Steve smiled as he made his way down the steps carefully, thinking back to the many adventures Bucky and him had had in that very garden. Bucky followed Steve with a lot less grace. His size and weight made it a little difficult to manoeuvre himself on the steps. The smell of a variety of flowers filled their noses, making Steve sigh contently. Bucky looked around, waiting for more images to come to him while listening to Peggy explain her dilemma.

"Do you remember how small these used to be?" She asked Steve, pointing to two medium-sized trees she had planted into two huge red pots.

"A lot smaller, that's for sure." Steve chuckled, "You want to plant them, don't you?" She nodded.

"All they do is obstruct the view from the terrace and I think it's time they get put into normal soil so they can grow bigger. I only want to plant them in spring though so I wanted to move them into the greenhouse in the meantime." Steve followed Bucky's gaze to the greenhouse in the far right corner of the garden next to the garden shed. "Steve?" Bucky turned to Steve whose face immediately lit up. This didn't go unnoticed by Peggy. She was watching the exchange curiously, fascinated by the change in dynamic between the two of them compared to the way things used to be. "I can move them. Should I move them?"

"That'd be great Buck, thank you." Bucky nodded, pulling out his metal hand. It caught the sunlight immediately, drawing Peggy's gaze to his hand. Her eyes widened unwillingly before she forced herself to seem nonchalant. Bucky frowned lightly before forcing himself to focus on his task.  
"Are you sure he can handle it on his own?" Peggy asked Steve a little worriedly.

"I think asking him if he needed any help might insult him." Steve said, grinning at the astounded look on Peggy's face when Bucky lifted the pot with both hands, hugging it to his chest as if it were nothing more than a slightly large teddy bear. "To the greenhouse, right Steve?"

"That's right." And off Bucky went, walking as if there was absolutely no more strain on his muscles than when he walked without a tree about the size of him in his arms. "That's amazing." Peggy commented and Steve let out a breathy laugh, nodding in agreement.

"It took some time for me to get used to it as well." He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel slightly proud of what Bucky was capable of doing. He might have feared it at first but he quickly realized that Bucky could use his strength and his abilities for good as well. Bucky just had to learn to see it that way; same way as Steve had had to learn to look at Bucky for who he was and not what Hydra wanted him to be.

The two stood in silence for a while, enjoying the gentle breeze and the sun that was blanketing them in a pleasant warm glow. "So this is the way he is now, huh…?" Peggy spoke up after letting out a long sigh. She sounded contemplative so Steve gave her a moment to muse, "You say he's made a lot of progress?"  
"Part of me still can't believe how _much_ progress he's made. When he first arrived… he was nothing like the Bucky we knew. Nothing like a normal human being."

"I remember you telling me something like that." She nodded a little stiffly, "Considering that, I must say that you've done a remarkable job at rehabilitating him."

"You really think so?" Just like every other time he spoke to Peggy, part of his mask cracked and he allowed himself to think about his doubts and fears. One of them was that he wasn't helping Bucky as much as he should and Peggy telling him the opposite was like cooling gel on a burn wound.

"I know so. He's still very quiet and I suppose he's still figuring out who he really is but he knows that he is Bucky and he knows who we are."

"He remembered you about a month ago." Steve had a fond smile on his lips as he told the story, watching Bucky tilt the pot so that it was resting solely on his metal hand while he used his right to open the door to the greenhouse. "Well I'll take that as a compliment." The warm glow was back on her face and Steve felt pride bubble up inside of him. She was taking this a lot better than he had thought she would. "And you're sure you're okay Peggy?"

"Seeing him like this, seeing how much he's suffered is painful but I haven't felt this hopeful in a long time. Bucky is back and he's got a second chance at living the life that those Hydro-."

"Hydra." Steve corrected her endearingly and she shot him a playful glare before continuing.

"Hydra… he's got a second chance at living the life Hydra tried to deny him."

"You're right." They paused their conversation when Bucky came back to pick up the second pot before walking off again without a word. "Steve, can I ask you something?"

"Anything Peggy."

"I have a feeling you're about to regret saying that." She warned him and Steve's eyebrows furrowed. He pulled his eyes away from Bucky and looked down at Peggy instead. She was looking at him, a conniving smirk on her face. Oh he hated it when she got like this.

"Do you fancy Bucky?" Steve's eyes widened at the same time as he tried to take in a gulp of air and failed. He bent forward, coughing. Peggy laughed lightly, hitting him on the back until his coughing subsided. His face was coloured a dark red and his eyes were watering. Footsteps drew their attention back to the third person in the garden and Steve saw Bucky approaching them rapidly. He was frowning, watching Steve with a worried gaze.

"I'm fine." Steve held up his hand and Bucky slowed down minutely.

"Well I have my answer anyway." Peggy said softly and Steve had to try not to choke all over again.

* * *

Because Peggy needs more screen-time! xD So I really hope you enjoyed this! I had to edit it quickly before leaving for work so I hope there aren't too many mistakes!

Please let me know what you think! It really encourages me to continue with this story! :D  
Have an awesome day and thank you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**WARNING: Graphical description of violence!  
**

Hey guys! So happy New Year! I hope you guys have had a good start to 2017!  
Here you guys have Chapter 13! I hope you enjoy!

Lemme know what you think!

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

James Buchanan Barnes.

It was the name that Bucky had once forgotten. The name he had forgotten while Steve stayed a name that was ever-present in his broken mind. Sometimes during maintenance after a long mission, the name would pop back into his mind and he would lash out, striking whoever stood the closest to him. Often it was the mechanic working on his arm and the man would be sent flying against the wall. Worst case, Bucky would snap his neck without even thinking about what he was really doing. It was when the Soldier bled over into the state he was in when he was not the Soldier. Before Steve had arrived in that interrogation room, Bucky hadn't even known what that state was. He hadn't been anything but the Soldier for years, not being the Soldier anymore had left him disorientated and violent. Even now, after so many months of rehabilitation, Bucky had relapses every now and then. He would become cold, his mind drifting back into the dark place Hydra had put there and his eyes would become icy and his face vacant. Sam and Steve were careful not to subject him to violence of any sort, afraid that that would trigger the Soldier even without the trigger words or the wiping, like so many other things had at the beginning of Bucky's rehabilitation. Neither Sam nor Steve were ready to see what the Soldier did in action and Steve didn't think he'd ever be ready to see it. The problem with the Soldier though, is that he had become a habit for Bucky and old habits die hard; especially when they were drilled into his mind using violence and pain.

* * *

Bucky's eyes were on the officers and the agents rushing in and out of the building in front of them. Their surroundings were chaotic, putting Bucky on edge. He tried to assess all the people around them but it was impossible. Instead, he chose a target- Steve. Focusing on making sure that Steve was safe, mirroring the relaxed line of Steve's shoulders. The large eagle painted over the sliding doors had demanded his attention at first but it soon became just another part of the imposing building with its high, grey walls that stretched up towards the blue, cloudless sky. The noise of the city surrounded them, sirens and car horns enveloping them like a veil. "Are you ready to go inside?" Steve asked Bucky a little nervously, edging closer to his best friend. Bucky was alarmed by the touch at first but his mind told him that it was just Steve, so he leant closer, letting Steve push himself into Bucky's side as much as the other wanted. "This is where you used to work?" Bucky asked quietly, averting his eyes from the many people and back to Steve. Steve's bright blue eyes met Bucky's and he nodded. Bucky had expected a smile but when none came, he felt unease bubble up in him. There was something Steve wasn't telling him…

"I'm ready to go inside." Bucky finally answered Steve's question and Steve nodded. The blond took a deep breath, composing himself before making his way across the large forecourt paved with white slabs of stone. The building towered above them as they made their way into the front doors that parted for them obediently. The air-conditioning hit them like a wall, running over their skin like ice compared to the warm weather outside. The inside was just as extravagantly large as the outside. The hall they entered was made largely out of glass walls. The ceiling above them was made of glass as well, allowing the sun to stream down on them. People were rushing about in a flurry of movement and Steve noticed Bucky tense. He knew what Bucky was doing: he was pinpointing every exit, assessing every threat and trying to put tabs on every person in their vicinity, which, with the large crowd around them, was bound to fail. "It's okay Buck." Steve spoke up over the constant buzz of chatter around them "These are the same type of people that rescued you from Hydra, remember? I promise you that there isn't a single Hydra agent in this building." Bucky's eyes found Steve immediately and he relaxed marginally.

"Okay." Bucky nodded, letting Steve lead him through the crowd, past the information desk and to the security checkpoint.

"Is that… No way!" Dum Dum Dugan left his post at the security checkpoint and hurried over to Steve with a wide grin on his face. His bright blue eyes were wide and sparkled with amusement. For a moment, the ginger hadn't noticed Bucky but when the latter tensed and made a move to stand between Steve and Dum Dum, the other stopped his advance. "It's okay Bucky." Steve assured him quietly, putting his hand on Bucky's back. His fingers glided over the slightly rough green fabric of Bucky's bomber jacket for a moment in comforting strokes. Steve took a deep breath, waiting until he could feel Bucky's muscles uncoil before moving around him again to stand in front of Dum Dum. "So the Captain's got his own bodyguard now?" Dum Dum remarked jokily and Steve chuckled, bowing his head for a moment. "Not quite." Steve corrected him, shooting a quick smile at Bucky before looking at Dum Dum, "Dum Dum this is Bucky Barnes." Dum Dum's eyes widened a little and he lifted his hand to twist his moustache between his index finger and his thumb. "You don't say… gotta be a damn miracle then." He muttered, looking Bucky up and down as if he was trying to convince himself that Bucky was real, "You ain't say the guy's a tank."

"He never used to be." Steve said, "And yeah, it is a miracle." Dum Dum shared a look with Steve and they were on the same page immediately. Dum Dum dropped the subject and instead, gave Bucky a brisk nod. "Good t' meet ya Sergeant." Bucky's frame relaxed completely now and that was the only response Dum Dum needed from Bucky. His smile was back and he clapped Steve on the shoulder firmly. "It's been far t' long Cap! It's good t' see ya though!" Dum Dum exclaimed merrily.

"Likewise. I see you're still wearing that hat of yours." Dum Dum lifted his hand to readjust the melon hat on his head, smirking.

"Of course I do. Ain't nobody allowed t' touch my hat." He paused, looking at the security check over his shoulder, "You here t'show the Sergeant the place?"

"I am."

"Well then come right this way." Dum Dum ushered them to the security check and Bucky was sent through the scanner first. Steve wanted to rush through when the scanner beeped and Bucky was asked to move to the side for inspection. He walked through the scanner briskly, sighing with relief when it stayed silent. He joined Bucky in the small compartment and he saw Bucky visibly relax when he saw Steve. In front of Bucky, a SHIELD Agent was busy moving a scanner over Bucky's body. Of course it sounded alarm as soon as the man got to Bucky's left shoulder. "It's my arm." Bucky pointed out at a gruff mumble but the man asked him to remove his jacket nonetheless. Bucky did as he was told before pulling up the sleeve of his grey Henley. The man's eyes widened and he offered a quick apology before letting Bucky join Steve again. Dum Dum came up to them to hand them their clearance passes that they hung around their necks before offering them an enthusiastic "See you later fellas!"

The SHIELD facility was huge and there was a lot to see. Steve took him from mission control to the living quarters, the break rooms all the way to the training facility.

"This is where we did basic training. Simulations are done one floor up." Steve explained, stepping into a large hall equipped with a shooting range to the right against the wall, a boxing ring and numerous training dummies as well as obstacle courses. The smell of sweat and rubber welcomed Steve like an old, fond memory and he felt himself want to smile. Surprisingly, Steve and Bucky were the only two people in the room.

"Was the training difficult?" It was the first question Bucky had asked since they'd left Dum Dum at the overcrowded security checkpoint and Steve was secretly thrilled that Bucky seemed to be showing interest. "Well when I came here I was still pretty small." Steve admitted, "So yeah, it was difficult."

"I want to try." Steve's eyes widened and Bucky bowed his head a little bashfully.

"What do you want to try Buck?"

"The obstacle course."

"Then let's go." Steve grinned at Bucky who smiled back. The two jogged over to one of the lines of obstacles, both shrugging off their jackets and throwing them on the floor. The air in the gym was a lot cooler than the air in the rest of the facility, making Steve shiver once he'd left the warmth of his lose hoodie behind. "Are you ready?" Steve asked Bucky cheekily.

"I should be asking you that." Bucky smirked, "You sure you can keep up Stevie?" Steve's eyes softened immediately and the smile on his face widened. This kind of thing only happened when the two were alone. It was like parts of the old Bucky broke the surface for short moments and Bucky would talk the way he used to. It was balm on all of the wounds the past few months had caused on Steve's soul and he treasured these moments because they were quick to disappear again. "I ain't that kid from Brooklyn anymore." Steve pointed out with an arched eyebrow.

"To me, you're always gonna be that kid from Brooklyn." Steve straightened up for a moment, letting that sink in. After all those conversations, after Steve telling Bucky all sorts of stories about what they'd been through as kids, Bucky finally remembered him; not just thought that he remembered Steve but he really and truly _remembered_ him. This was proof of that. Something bubbled up in Steve, an urge to take Bucky's face in his hands and-. "You're not thinking of backing out, are you Steve?" Steve was yanked back to reality, finding Bucky looking at him expectantly.

"No Buck. Let's go."

Despite Bucky's weight and his metal arm, he moved with a grace that Steve had never seen on another human being before. It was like all of his muscles knew exactly what to do when and only moved in the narrow margins that Bucky's training allowed them to. He helped lift himself and Steve over high wooden walls with ease, hauling their combined weight with his metal arm. The mechanics in his arm didn't so much as make a sound and Bucky wasn't breaking a sweat at all. Steve watched the way Bucky's muscles moved when Bucky took the lead. He really didn't mind Bucky taking the lead, it was quite the opposite actually- Steve had to begrudgingly admit that he really, really liked the view. When it came to tight squeezes though, Steve had the advantage, only by a litte but he managed to crawl ahead of Bucky who had to squash his broad shoulders between two wooden poles on the floor in one of few the crawling obstacles.

* * *

They were standing on a high wooden platform. The sun had disappeared behind a group of clouds, no longer shining through the small square windows in the ceiling. The height made Steve a little dizzy. He'd done this a thousand times and yet doing it with Bucky made him strangely nervous. He wanted to prove himself to Bucky, show his friend that he wasn't frail and weak anymore. He had the advantage in all of this, knowing exactly how the obstacle courses worked and yet Bucky's training to adapt to his circumstances proved invaluable, allowing Bucky to master the course without even having to map it out first or pace himself in any way. So as they stood on that platform, looking at the rope hanging from the ceiling a meter or two away, Steve knew that Bucky already knew what to do. "You wanna take the lead on this one?" Steve asked him breathlessly.

"I'm only a Sergeant." Bucky smirked, "You're the Captain, you go ahead." Part of him was elated by the fact that Bucky was referring to him like that, the other part hated it. He never, _never_ wanted Bucky to think of him as his superior; never wanted Bucky to associate Steve with the army or anything along those lines. Captain was more of a nickname. Sure he'd become a captain in the SHIELD ranks but that, to Steve, was nothing compared to the actual army.

Suddenly, the exhilarated feeling that had been fuelling him, drained out of him and his body felt heavier than usual. Bucky still looked as exhilarated as Steve had felt a moment ago and Steve knew that it was only a matter of time before his best friend would slip away again. Without chancing a jab at Bucky or saying anything else, he leapt forward, grabbing the rope with both hands. His weight forced him down a little and he felt the rope burn against the palms of his hands. He ignored it though, letting his momentum propel him forward before he let go, landing on the mat underneath the rope with a thump. He lay on his back for a moment, looking up at the wood panelling on the ceiling, taking one deep breath after the other, enjoying the feeling of his lungs filling up and emptying out without a hitch or a burn. Eventually, he rolled off the blue mat, crouching down next to it to watch Bucky's landing.

Bucky grabbed the rope with his metal hand and when Steve looked more closely, he could see the plates around his wrist recalibrate to adjust to the strain. Bucky didn't land on his back; instead, he landed in a crouch on the mat, much like a cat, his metal arm placed out in front of him against the mat to stop him from toppling forward. "Nice landing." Steve commented appreciatively and Bucky smirked.

Then, Bucky slipped away again.

"Well done there, Rogers!" Clapping filled the eerie silence in the hall, "I wouldn't have thought you had it in ya after how much you screwed up your last mission!" Chills ran down Steve's spine, not only because of the voice and how much he despised the owner of it, but also because of the look on Bucky's face. It was blank, his eyes darkening and his body went still in a way that got Steve's instincts yelling at him to _get away_. Before Steve could even get to his feet, Bucky was up, moving past Steve at an astounding speed. Steve struggled to his feet and turned around just in time to see Bucky slam his metal elbow into Brock's throat. The man wanted to bend forward when blood began pouring out of his mouth but Bucky took a hold of his hair and yanked up his head roughly.

"Bucky stop it!" Steve yelled, running up to Bucky and yanking at his shoulders desperately. He didn't respond. Bucky looked furious in a way that Steve had never seen him look. The anger Bucky had directed at him during their first meeting in the interrogation room was nothing compared to what he was showing now. He didn't just look like he wanted to kill Rumlow; he looked like he wanted to do so much worse than just killing him. Was this because of what Rumlow had said to Steve? It was the only reason Steve could think of for why Bucky had gone off like landmine. But this was… this was way over the top. Bucky wouldn't… he wouldn't _do_ that! He'd tell the guy to beat it or prepare for a punch to the face but that was it! Bucky wouldn't wrap his left hand around Rumlow's throat to hold him in place while he dislocated both of the man's shoulders. But he was! He was and Rumlow was crying out, his throat-ripping cry filling the deafening silence in the hall. His scream was cut off by a cough, blood from his mouth splattered all over Bucky's indifferent face and his grey shirt.

"Bucky! Bucky snap out of it!" Steve was beside himself! His body was trembling with fear and adrenalin but no matter how much he clawed at Bucky's back, yanked at his shoulders or his arms, his best friend didn't respond. His body was stiff as a board, the muscles in his back tensing and flexing like a horse chomping at the bit. Suddenly, Bucky let Rumlow drop and for only a short moment Steve thought, hoped, prayed that Bucky had let up.

He hadn't though.

As soon as Rumlow was on his back, Bucky sat down on top of him, pinning him down with his weight. Rumlow was sobbing, muttering incoherent words until something did make sense to Steve.

"Wasn't my idea. Had a job. Payed well."

That was all Bucky let the man say before he shoved his left thumb into Rumlow's left eye-socket and pushed down. The cry that escaped Brock drowned out the squishing noise of the eye as it was crushed but made Steve bend forward and throw up. Steve coughed, panting before wiping his mouth off on the long sleeved blue shirt he was wearing. He had long since lost control over his breathing that was now bordering on hyperventilation. "Bucky!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, tears forming in his eyes. They blurred his vision so Steve wiped them away frantically. There was blood covering Bucky's entire left hand now and Rumlow was clasping a hand over his destroyed left eye as blood ran down the left side of his face. Sobs were rattling the man's trembling frame and his face was so pale that me might as well have been a corpse.

"Bucky please! God please stop this! Bucky I'll do anything! Bucky please! Please! _Please_!"

No response.

Bucky wrapped his right hand around Rumlow's throat while he placed his left hand over his face and began pushing down. Rumlow started screaming again, his deep voice slipping into higher octaves, making him sound like an animal being tortured. The sound rung in Steve's ears, making his skin crawl so much that he wanted to scratch it raw to make it stop. He quickly realized that Bucky was aiming to crush his skull against the floor slowly and in a painful way that no one deserved.

He was going to kill him. Slowly. Intimately. Painfully.

Steve's breaths began getting stuck in his throat. His body felt cold, frozen on the spot and he could no longer feel his fingers. He knew that he couldn't stop Bucky. He wasn't nearly strong enough. He could throw Bucky off yes, maybe keep him away from Rumlow for a moment but that would just be prolonging the inevitable.

He wanted to kill Rumlow and nothing was going to stop him.

Steve had always been able to snap Bucky out of it though so why not now?! The only time he couldn't was when Bucky had been triggered and that was because in that moment, no matter how much Steve had wanted to deny it-, "You're not Bucky." Steve whispered through his haggard breaths, clenching his hands into tight fists. This was the man he had faced during the therapy session. This was the man who had watched Steve fall apart. This was no-longer anything between Bucky and the Asset- this was the Winter Soldier as he lived and breathed.  
His stomach lurched and he was seconds away from throwing up again, pressing his hands against his mouth in an attempt to stop himself. All of Bucky's therapy and rehabilitation and now this? Bucky would be put in jail for murder or worse- he'd be stuck in a psychiatric ward without any connection to the outside world! Just yesterday everything seemed to have been going well! He'd met Peggy, drawn on his arm, written a word on his arm in Russian and-. Something in Steve's mind clicked and he yanked up the sleeve of his shirt. He thanked God for the fact that he'd been hesitant about scrubbing off the doodles, deciding to leave the art there a little longer. He read the word over and over again in a near to hysterical rush of broken Russian, trying to imagine the way it would be pronounced. The only words in Russian that meant anything to Bucky were trigger words. How could Steve not have thought of that sooner? He didn't know what the word would do but anything was better than what he was doing right then and there, right? Rumlow was beginning to scream more and more, flailing against Bucky's sturdy body in a last attempt to preserve his life. Steve had to do something! If he didn't, Rumlow would undoubtedly die and Bucky would be held accountable for doing something he probably wouldn't even remember doing.

"S…" Steve hesitated, pinching his eyes closed when Rumlow's bloodcurdling scream echoed in Steve's ears. "Sputnik!" Steve chocked out in Russian. Without a moment's hesitation, Bucky's eyes rolled back in his head and his body collapsed like a puppet being cut loose of its strings.

He was unconscious.

Steve scrambled over to Rumlow and Bucky, pushing Bucky off of Rumlow carefully, placing Bucky's head down on the floor gently before tending to Rumlow who was a sobbing ball of nerves by now. "I'll call an ambulance." Steve rushed out, "Just take long, slow breaths. Try to calm down Rumlow. I know it's hard. I know it hurts. I'm here though. Bucky's not gonna hurt you anymore" He got his phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket with trembling fingers. He cursed under his breath when his fingers were almost too shaky to dial. One of Rumlow's blood-covered hands clung onto the sleeve of Steve's shirt while he muttered "You saved my life." Over and over again like a broken record.

* * *

The medics were there faster than Steve could recount and at first, they had wanted to tend to Bucky who was still lying unconscious on the floor. Steve had managed to shove their two jackets underneath Bucky's head to cushion it a little but that was all he had been able to do before trying to tend to Rumlow as best as he could. Once Steve had told them that Bucky was fine, they had shooed Steve away and had started tending to Brock instead. Steve moved to Bucky's side slowly, kneeling down on the floor and moving Bucky's heavy head onto his lap gently. He brushed strands of brown hair out of Bucky's face, cringing when he found that the blood had clotted up the hair in thick, sticky strands.

"Cap?" Steve cringed when he recognized Dum Dum's voice. He must have been the one who showed the medics to the training hall.

"Hey." Steve muttered hoarsely, nodding at Dum Dum when the other man knelt down next to Bucky. His bright blue eyes studied Steve for a moment before he spoke up in a low voice. "You wanna tell me what happened here?" Dum Dum looked at Rumlow, wincing before looking at Bucky's peaceful face. It was disturbing that Bucky could look that peaceful while having blood splattered all over his face. "I don't know." Steve admitted, trembling voice and all, "One moment he was fine and then he lunged at him."

"How'd you stop him?"

"I used…" Steve hesitated, looking down at Bucky while he continued, "I used a trigger word. I guess it's some sort of shutdown phrase..."

"Trigger word?" Dum Dum's frown deepened, "That sounds like something-."

"Hydra would do." Steve finished for him, nodding, "I didn't wanna say it in front of him earlier but yeah, that's who had him all these years." Dum Dum

"Hydra." Dum Dum muttered, staring down at Bucky's face now too.

"Hydra." Brock Rumlow pushed the medics aside, scrambling over to Steve with bloodied hands. He grabbed a hold of Steve's blue shirt, yanking at him weakly. Bile rose in Steve's mouth when he saw the damage Bucky had done to Brock's eye and he swallowed, averting his eyes as best as he could. "They… I'm sorry." Brock muttered distraughtly. Steve could smell blood on his breath. "They offered me a job."

"What…?" Steve lifted his eyes to look at Brock again, worry clearing from Steve's features immediately. The eye that was left was trembling with fear almost as much as his body still was.

"They offered me a job Steve. I had to take it. I needed the money. It was easy pay. Make sure he don't act out. If he does, teach him a lesson. It was easy. He didn't even fight back when we did. It was so bloody easy Steve."

The next thing Steve knew, Bucky's head hit the ground and Dum Dum was holding Steve back with all the strength he had in him. Rumlow scrambled away, collapsing against one of the medics. "I'm sorry Steve! I didn't know he was yours. I'm sorry Steve!"

"Do you have any idea what they _did_ to him?" Steve yelled at Rumlow, "I should have let him kill you! I should have let him crush your skull! You! You hurt him! You hurt Bucky!"

"Steve-." Dum Dum wanted to speak but Steve thrashed against his hold, shaking his head wildly.

"Get him out!" Steve yelled at the medics while hot tears filled his eyes, making them burn, "Get him out before I kill him myself!"

* * *

I'M SO SORRY! :'(

Still, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!  
I'll see you guys next week!

 _Also: I adore writing with Bucky and Steve so if you have any prompts or requests for one-shots or fanfictions, inbox me or leave it in the review section!_


	14. Chapter 14

Hey guys! Sorry for the one-day delay on the update. I've been sick at home for two days and it isn't getting any better. But I managed to work through this chapter for you so you have something to read! Please let me know what you think!

And enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

"Woah Steve!" Sam put out his arms, "Calm down there big guy!"

"I told him that there wouldn't be a Hydra agent in there!" Steve yelled, trying to step around Sam to get to the still unconscious Bucky. To Sam, Steve looked frenzied. His imposing chest was heaving and his shoulders were so tight that he could see it in the base of Steve's neck. Sam fixed him with a stern look and Steve averted his eyes immediately, working his jaw impatiently. "There's no way you could have known Steve." Sam tried to reason with him gently, trying to get Steve to calm down before he had a full-on panic attack. He'd never seen Steve like this. It was like all he wanted to do was get to Bucky's side and apologize until he ran out of air or words- whichever came first. "It doesn't matter whether I could have known or not, Sam! I have to look after him!" Steve insisted. His voice was rough and raw from strain. His red eyes darted about the room aimlessly, lingering on Bucky every few seconds before looking at Sam pleadingly again, begging him to get out of the way. He was busy clenching and unclenching his hands; so much so that the veins on his arms were now clearly visible.

They were back in Bucky's apartment. Sam had driven them over and helped Steve heave a still blood-covered and unconscious Bucky up the stairs and into his bedroom. It would be a blatant lie if Sam said that he wasn't concerned for Bucky but he had seen worse in his time as a pararescuer- Bucky would be perfectly fine. What he was _more_ concerned about, was the well-being of his close friend. Steve looked like he'd just seen a ghost. If Sam didn't know how gentle Steve really was, he would have probably backed out of the room slowly and left Steve to it. He looked terrifying; his large body heaving and shuddering with strain.

"I spoke to Rhodey." Sam chose to change the subject and the buzz in Steve's body stilled for a moment. His blue eyes met Sam's dark brown ones and he let out a long breath, calming down considerably. "What did he say?" Steve enquired when Sam hadn't gone on. The tall blond moved to sit down at the unused desk standing against the wall next to Bucky's bedside table, tapping his fingers against the wooden top in a staccato rhythm. Then, he slumped his shoulders.

There it was.

That's what Sam had been waiting for- for Steve to stop acting like a trapped dog frantic to get to its owner. "Your friend? What was his name? Dugan?"

"Dum Dum." Steve supplied with a short nod, "That's what we call him."

"Okay. So, Dum Dum went straight to Rhodey to explain what happened. 'Said it was important that Barnes isn't held accountable. Shield also sent over a file containing a statement from Rumlow." Steve tensed, wanting to get up again but Sam held up his hand, " _Relax_ Steve." He gave Steve a stern look, raising his eyebrow when Steve jutted out his chin a little, "I'm gonna call 'em to tie you up if you don't." He added lightly and Steve let out a huff of air in an attempt to laugh, making Sam smile at him, "Rumlow admitted to everything. Barnes scared the daylight out of him. He promised to tell them whatever they wanted to know as long as they kept James away from him."

"I hardly think Rumlow's the victim here." Steve pointed out bitterly, leaning back in his seat and looking over at Bucky again. Sam followed Steve's troubled gaze, his eyes resting on Bucky. He noted the even rise and fall of Bucky's chest, the calm look on his face while he slept. Sam had never seen Bucky that relaxed before. The fact that the man had blood all over his metal arm, chest and face made it a bitter-sweet experience for the VA therapist. Sam frowned lightly. "I agree." He muttered, "Rumlow's not the real victim here."

* * *

Bucky didn't wake up slowly. It wasn't like after a coma or when he feinted during operations when the pain became too much to bear. He woke up with a start, violently, mentally still in the middle of the fight with Rumlow, as if no time had passed at all. The Winter Soldier was gone, back in his cage, but Bucky was delirious, frightened. His body shot up into a sitting position immediately, his muscles coiling almost painfully before his eyes had even managed to focus on his dimly lit surroundings. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that his surroundings were familiar, that he was no-longer at Shield, but the dire need to _fight_ stopped him from taking a moment to reassess. Someone took a hold of him and his body jerked violently, his left arm drawing back to strike while his right hand wanted to take a hold of whoever it was. That is, until he heard him speak. "Hey! Hey it's me. Bucky! It's me!" For a moment, Bucky was puzzled, his grey-blue eyes finally focusing on something. He scanned the face in front of him while his left arm dropped to his sides again. For a few heartbeats, everything was still, with just Bucky's gasps for air stirring the silence. His chest rose and fell heavily and Steve waited, quickly realizing that Bucky's breathing wasn't slowing down. "Buck… Are you with me?" Steve asked him with a gentle, hopefully smile. Bucky blinked a few times, finally recognizing the face in front of him when the fog in his mind cleared. His panicked eyes returned to their normal size, his pupils dilating slightly while his breathing slowed down.

Up until that point, Bucky hadn't even realized that he was back in his apartment or that it was dark outside. He hadn't heard the feint sounds of the city or the frantic beating of his own heart through his panic. He'd heard Steve though and in that moment, all he cared about was that Steve was there. Bucky twisted around on his bed until he was facing Steve, pushing his face into Steve's chest and clutching onto him tightly. Bucky's hands clawed at the fabric covering Steve's muscled back. The fingernails of Bucky's right hand left red, partially bloody scratches on Steve's skin even through his dark grey shirt. The metal hand, the one that lacked fingernails, pushed into his skin with bruising force. Steve cringed. He wanted to arch his back away from the pain but he stopped himself, knowing that Bucky would feel terrible if he knew he was hurting Steve. And so, instead of saying anything, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky's trembling figure, offering him the comfort he obviously desperately wanted, no… _needed_.

"Steve." Bucky gasped breathlessly, "Steve. Sorry. Sorry Steve. Sorry."

"Do you remember what you did?" Bucky's body curling into Steve's was the only answer Steve needed. He could feel his own heart ache when felt the way Bucky's normally so still body trembled. Bucky's chest was pressed against Steve's so tightly that Steve could even feel the frantic drumming in his best friend's chest. He lifted one of his hands, brushing through Bucky's long hair gently in an attempt to soothe his distraught friend. He had managed to remove most of the blood from Bucky's hair and face while Bucky had still been unconscious but the smell of blood still lingered on Bucky like a foul aftertaste. Steve tried not to focus on that, tried not to think about the horrible things he'd seen his best friend's hands do that day. He continued to card his hands through Bucky's hair, his fingers sometimes getting tangled in clumps of blood-clotted hair. He would slowly and gently work out the knots before continuing his combing motion, smiling when Bucky sighed.

"You have nothing to apologize for Buck." Steve soothed him, relieved when he felt some of the tension drain out of Bucky's body until he was no longer trembling, "Tell me one thing." Steve whispered.

"Anything." Bucky answered, matching Steve's quiet tone of voice. His voice was low, lower than usual and rough, like he had been screaming.

"Rumlow. He was one of the guards… wasn't he?"

"He was the head of the guards." Bucky answered, his voice shaking with emotion.

Steve closed his eyes, tightening his one-armed embrace around Bucky. He let his fingers twist and glide through Bucky's hair until the latter let out another sigh, burying his face in the crook of Steve's neck. "I get why it happened. It wasn't your fault." Steve promised Bucky at a whisper.

"I'm not being punished." Bucky affirmed quietly, mumbling the words into the skin on Steve's neck. Steve clenched his jaw, stopping himself from correcting Bucky. Old habits die hard. The incident with Rumlow had shown Steve just that. Steve didn't know what lasting effects this incident with Rumlow was going to have on Bucky. All he knew right then and there was that he had never once in his life seen Bucky this distraught, like a house of cards that had finally collapsed in on itself. Maybe this is what Bucky had been like every time the Soldier took over, every time the Winter Soldier had gotten his orders. Maybe this was the pain that Bucky had had to endure while he had yelled and screamed, fought for control only to have the Soldier kill people with Bucky's very own hands while he was forced to watch it all happen.

"You're not being punished." Steve promised and it was what was needed to make Bucky melt into Steve's embrace completely becoming pliant against Steve's body. "Steve." Bucky whispered hoarsely, "Steve…"

"I'm right here Buck. I ain't leaving you. I'm right here." Steve promised him. Bucky's hunched over shoulders were pressing into Steve's chest and his face was cradled in the crook of Steve's thick neck. Steve's face was burning but he resolutely stopped himself from thinking about how good it felt to have Bucky's warm breath ghost over his skin or how right it felt to be holding Bucky so close. To distract himself, he looked out the window that hung above Bucky's bed, watching the stars above them, sparkling in the dark like lanterns. He remembered the way Bucky and him would sit on the old rusted fire escape in Bucky's old apartment before Bucky shipped out, looking up at the stars. Bucky knew all about the different constellations and he would show them to Steve, telling him all about them animatedly. Bucky would always bring a woollen blanket with him, wrapping it tightly around Steve, despite Steve's protest because _I ain't babying you punk! I jus' don't want ya getting sick again!_

"Time to get you cleaned up." Steve spoke up suddenly and Bucky straightened up, blinking at Steve through half-lidded eyes. It was a good look on Bucky and it made Steve's face soften. "Steve." Bucky breathed out the name almost silently. Steve smiled at him, nodding. "Yeah, it's me pal." He promised his best friend, brushing his unkempt brown hair back and out of Bucky's face.

Just like on the night that Steve had had a nightmare, Bucky lifted his right hand, letting his index finger trace the line Steve's vein drew along his throat. Steve held his breath, watching Bucky's empty face with a stuttering heartbeat. He didn't know why Bucky sometimes did that. Bucky had never done that before he shipped out. A little voice in the back of Steve's mind was telling him that Bucky was trying to convince himself that Steve was real. "I know I'm different to how you remember." Steve heard himself say. Bucky's tired-looking eyes flicked up to Steve's searchingly, "Is that why you do this?" Steve added. He saw the tell-tale signs of movement in Bucky's right shoulder and he quickly moved his hand to cover Bucky's right one where it was still resting against his throat. "It's fine." Steve promised him, "You can do whatever you need to. I trust you Buck." Bucky held eye-contact for a moment longer, checking to see whether Steve was lying or not but once again Steve had spoken nothing but the truth. Steve removed his hand from Bucky's when the latter nodded and attempted to return the smile Steve was giving him. Bucky's slightly calloused index finger ghosted across the warm, soft skin on Steve's throat until it settled there where his pulse was drumming against said skin. He left his finger there for a moment, counting Steve's heartbeat silently in his mind. He found it calmed him to feel Steve's heartbeat, to know it was right there. It calmed him to have Steve so close to him, to know that Steve trusted him. It calmed him to be allowed to touch him. It calmed him to feel Steve's warmth seep into his body that would sometimes still feel as cold as it did when they woke him up from one of the endless comas that they had put him in. He flattened his hand until the expanse of it was places across Steve's throat. He remembered metal against that very skin and he quickly pushed the memory right into the back of his mind, hoping to lose it forever. Bucky's hand moved from Steve's throat along his collarbones and to his shoulder where it rested. He leant forward, pressing his ear against Steve's left pectoral carefully. The warmth from Steve's body rushed into Bucky's face and he was enveloped by Steve's smell that clung to his t-shirt. He closed his eyes.

He listened.

The corners of Bucky's mouth twitched when he heard it. Steve might have become a lot bigger and stronger, but there was one thing that was never going to change- he had a heart murmur. It was difficult to hear if you didn't know what you were looking for but Bucky knew. He _remembered_ what to listen out for.

"Stevie." His voice had a note of finality in it, of a decision that had been made. Steve's smile widened.

"Still there, huh?" Steve asked.

"Still there." Bucky confirmed, moving to sit upright in front of Steve again but his hand lingered on Steve's shoulder for a moment longer.

"It's always been me Buck."

"I know. I know…" And yet Bucky was looking at him like he was only really _seeing_ Steve now, "I missed you Stevie." Bucky confessed, a look of confusion crossing his face once he'd said it, "All these years… I missed you. Every day."

"I missed you too buddy." Steve said a little breathlessly and the look of confusion on Bucky's face ebbed away slowly, revealing a sort of clarity that Steve hadn't seen on Bucky's face since he'd left with the army.

"Are you feeling a little better Buck?"

"Yeah. I think so." Bucky looked puzzled again for a moment, his focus shifting to himself for a brief second before he confirmed his statement with a nod. "Then don't you want get yourself cleaned up?" Steve asked him gently and Bucky looked at himself for the first time since he'd woken up. His eyes widened slightly and his mouth fell open. His body heaved forward a little as if he were about to gag but he stopped the movement, nodding numbly instead.

Steve coaxed Bucky out of bed gently, wrapping a hand around Bucky's right wrist and leading him to the bathroom. Once there, he helped Bucky out of his blood-stained shirt, throwing it into a corner before instructing Bucky to sit down on the rim of the bathtub.

Bucky seemed apathetic while Steve got out a cloth and doused it warm water. He rung it out, watching the water drip into the sink before using it to clean off more of the blood from Bucky's collarbones, his neck and his right hand. Thankfully it had dried already so Steve didn't have to worry about whether or not it had gotten smeared onto him earlier. He rinsed out the cloth before shifting his attention to Bucky's metal arm. The grooves in the arm and the hand were clotted with dried blood. Steve had to force himself not to think about what Bucky had done with that hand. There was simply _so much_ of Rumlow's blood spread all over the metal as a reminder of what had happened only a few hours ago. In some places, the metal no longer shone the way it usually would. It was like it was covered by a matt, red shimmer. He started with Bucky's metal hand, cradling it in one of his own hands to twist and turn it as he wanted it. Bucky didn't protest, he wasn't even watching Steve. Instead, he had closed his eyes.

Knowing that Bucky wasn't watching him made Steve feel a little more at ease and so he went on scrubbing at the tiny grooves around his knuckles and where the thumb connected to the rest of the hand. He'd never paid Bucky's arm this much attention before. He hadn't taken his time to study all the grooves or notice all the rises and falls, dents and tiny scratches all over the surface. The arm was an intricate system of plates and grooves that must have taken an extremely long time to develop. Most of the time nowadays, Bucky had his arm covered by a thick hoodie or a bomber jacket. Having it uncovered like that, letting Steve touch it… it was a huge show of trust, wasn't it?

A smile found its way onto Steve's face and he began enjoying the feeling of the cold metal against his warm hands, letting his touches linger longer than he usually would.

"Rumlow was arrested by Shield for questioning." Steve tried to sound casual despite of how much he despised even speaking the man's name in Bucky's presence. Bucky showed no response.

There was a pause in which he got to work on Bucky's wrist and the larger plates covering his forearm. They were no less intricate than the plates on the hand, especially the plates making up the underside of the forearm. "I was questioned too." He added and Bucky shifted a little uneasily, seeming to come to life all of a sudden, "They asked me about what happened. Sam put in a good word for you too. They're not holding you accountable for what you did, seeing as he was obviously part of Hydra."

Steve knew that he was supposed to feel relieved; knew that he was supposed to be happy and yet… looking at Bucky hunched over, sitting on the rim of the bathtub with blood-caked hair… this didn't really feel like much of a victory to him.

"You saved his life." Bucky noted, opening his eyes to look at Steve who drew in a sharp breath, "By using the trigger word."

"I'm sorry that I used it I-."

"Thank you." Bucky interrupted him again and Steve's mouth snapped shut, his eyes growing wide with surprise. There was a warmth in Bucky's eyes that Steve only got to see on rare occasions nowadays.

"What're you…?" Steve's voice trailed off a little helplessly. Bucky averted his eyes, looking down to where Steve's hand was resting on his metal underarm, a grounding pressure against the cold metal. Bucky wished he could actually _feel_ how warm Steve's hand felt in that moment.

"Thank you for saving Rumlow." Bucky said, looking back up at Steve's shimmering blue eyes again, "Thank you for stopping me from killing any more people."

* * *

Here you go! I really hope you like it! :)


	15. Chapter 15

Hey guys! Thank you so much for your reviews! They mean a lot to me! I love hearing from you guys! :)  
Writing this chapter was good for my heart xD

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

Bucky kept stealing glances at Steve while they drove. Steve was nervous, Bucky could tell. He'd noticed it the moment he'd walked into the living area that morning. Steve had been all over the place, trying to keep up a casual conversation with Bucky while preparing their breakfast. He didn't just stumble over his words though- he'd almost dropped everything he'd tried to carry. The eggs he'd fried had turned out to be more on the darker side even so Bucky was pretty sure that something was on Steve's mind. It couldn't be anything negative though, Bucky figured, because every time Bucky looked at him, Steve was smiling. His eyes were sparking the way the ocean did in the afternoon sun. Steve had even gone so far as to sing in the shower that morning. Bucky vaguely remembered that Steve had looked this giddy when they'd gone to Coney Island for the first time- a giddiness that lasted only until Bucky had dragged him onto one of the larger rollercoasters. Bucky doubted they were going to Coney Island though; he wasn't ready for that and he was certain that both Sam and Steve knew it.

Speaking of Sam- he was sitting in the driver's seat of his Mustang that gave off a pleasant hum while it cruised along the road heading out of the city. From his back seat, Bucky watched the skyscrapers they were driving past, watching the way the sun's light reflected off all the spotless windows. In his mind, he ran through any possible appointments that he might have forgotten about but there were none that seemed like the type that would make Steve this happy. For a moment, Bucky wondered if they were going to visit Peggy. Somehow, he doubted it. Whatever they were doing though, Bucky was thankful for it because it was making Steve smile again, two weeks after the incident with one Brock Rumlow.

"Quit staring at me Buck." Steve laughed, his eyes finding Bucky's. Briefly, Bucky was flustered, having been so lost in thought that he hadn't meant to stare. "Sorry." He bowed his head to avoid Steve's gaze.

"What're you thinking about?" Steve asked him, shooting a glance to the rear-view mirror Sam was watching the two of them through.

"Where are we going?" Bucky asked.

"Wait and see Buck." For a moment, all Bucky could think of doing was stare at Steve. It had taken Bucky an entirety of two hours to ask the question weighing on his mind and _that_ was his answer? His face hardened into a glare and Steve snorted, stifling another laugh. "C'mon Buck it won't take much longer!" Steve promised him, at least making the effort to look the slightest bit apologetic.

"Won't take us more than another half an hour." Sam chimed and Bucky shot a glance at Sam's reflection in the mirror before looking at Steve again with pleading eyes. Now that he'd actually worded his curiosity, he wanted to know _so bad_ , like talking about it had awoken a part of Buck that he'd forgotten about completely; the part that knew that Bucky loved surprises and that, was he aware that he was on the receiving end of one, he would ask and ask and ask about it until Steve relented and let him in on his secret. Bucky let out a slow breath, realization settling on him while he familiarized himself with the feeling of curiosity that was driving words onto the tip of his tongue, encouraging him to talk.

"Is it one of the places I forgot about? Like Peggy's? Is it an experience?" Bucky heard himself ask. Steve tore his eyes away from the scenery outside to smile at Bucky warmly. "I ain't telling you Buck."

"Please! Just give me one hint Stevie!"

Sam laughed from the driver's seat, watching fondly as Steve's resolve dwindled away like ice on a heated windshield. Steve would be lying if he said that the familiarity of Bucky's behaviour didn't make him get butterflies in his stomach, that it didn't make heat rise into his cheeks.

"It's sort of an experience." Steve relented, letting out a heavy sigh when Bucky's glance turned from flat-out staring into one laced with surprise and confusion. "I don't understand." Bucky muttered, looking down at his metal arm. For the first time since he'd started his rehabilitation, he was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt without a jacket on, leaving the prosthetic on full display. Bucky watched the way the sunlight danced off the scratched metal surface, frowning. "Hey." Steve said gently, putting a hand on Bucky's left shoulder, just above where his flesh started, squeezing gently, "You'll see what it is soon enough." He paused, searching Bucky's beautiful eyes for a moment before saying, "Just trust me, pal."  
"I do." Bucky replied instantaneously and without a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as if trusting Steve was as natural as breathing to Bucky. A pleasant pool of warmth settled in Bucky's chest when Steve smiled at him bashfully, biting his bottom lip and turning his head away before Bucky could see his blush. Bucky felt his lips twitch while he too turned his attention back to the scenery outside.

After about fifteen minutes of content silence, Bucky cleared his throat and turned to look at Steve with a gentle frown on his face. "You still got that pen?" He asked Steve whose eyes grew wide when he caught on to what that meant. He nodded readily, getting out his pen and handing it to Bucky. "You okay?" He asked Bucky, a concerned line drawn between his eyebrows. Bucky nodded, giving Steve a weak smile, hoping that it would cure the worried look on Steve's face. "I'm just a little anxious." Bucky confided, looking down at the pen in his hands, rolling it between his index finger and his thumb. Thoughtlessly, Steve reached out his hand and let it glide through Bucky's hair, undoing the bun Bucky had wrestled his hair into an hour prior. Bucky sighed, leaning his head against Steve's right shoulder while Steve's left hand continued to play with Bucky's hair. The brunet let out a slow breath that flushed the tension out of his shoulders and back, making his body feel heavy and placid. His calloused fingers brushed over the smooth surface of the pen distractedly while he focused on the feeling of Steve's fingernails skimming his scalp while sliding through his hair, working out knots gently as they went.

"Thanks Steve." Bucky mumbled, nestling his head a little more firmly against Steve's muscle-packed shoulder. Steve smiled.

"Anytime Buck."

The pen stayed, unused, in Bucky's hand.

* * *

Fenced off meadows spread out over the entire plot. The wild-growing grass was lush, speckled with small dandelions all over. A large, flat-roofed building stood in the middle of the property. Farther off to the side, Bucky spotted a classical barn complete with red paintjob and large wooden doors. The tires of the Mustang kicked up dirt while it drove along the dirt road leading to a small make-shift parking lot in front of the building. A flowerbed fenced in the small parking lot with flowers of all shapes and sizes and small bushes. The place looked a little like a farm but Bucky thought that the building looked too much like an office to make a proper farm house. He searched his partially recovered memories, prodding at some of the foggier parts, waiting for images to come back to him like they usually would, but nothing happened.

Sam looked into the rear-view mirror once he'd put the car into park, noticing the puzzled frown on Bucky's face. He noticed the way Bucky's eyes darted and the way he was working his jaw occasionally. "You've never been here before." Bucky's eyes stopped darting and cleared, becoming almost soft and round. His shoulders slumped a little and he let out a slow breath.

"Are you ready?" Steve asked Bucky excitedly and Bucky nodded immediately. He didn't even try to fight the small smile that was spreading across his stubbly cheeks. He was dying to know what was making Steve so happy. If it was a person, he was even considering thanking them.

As soon as the car doors had slammed shut and Sam had locked his beloved Mustang, the front door of the strange building swung open. A slender woman with red hair and a beautiful smile sauntered out. She waved briefly, walking over to them with swinging hips and a smirk on her red lips. "Would you look at what the cat dragged in?" Her voice was low and smoky. Bucky was sure he'd never met her before.

"Natasha Romanoff as she lives and breathes." Sam grinned, giving her a tight hug, "Good to see you."

"Likewise, Sam." She replied, giving him a once-over before her eyes rested on Steve. Bucky instinctively took a step closer to his friend when Natasha's eyes settled on the blond. She noticed this, her eyes flicking to Bucky for a moment before resting on Steve again. "Rogers."

"Hey Nat. It's good to see you." His smile was soft and warm and Bucky felt himself grow tense again.

"It's been a long time." Natasha agreed, "How is your survivor's guilt treating you? Is it calming down?" Steve stiffened in the same moment that Bucky averted his eyes from Natasha to look at him. No-one had told Bucky that Steve was suffering from survivor's guilt. Why hadn't Steve _told_ him? Survivor's guilt from what? Bucky's mind raced for a moment before coming to an unsettling conclusion: They had told Steve that Bucky was dead. He had survivor's guilt because _he_ had survived while Bucky had apparently died. But that was all wrong, thought Bucky. He drew in a breath to protest, to tell Steve that it was good that he survived, only Steve beat him to it. "It's getting there." Steve smiled. It was a fake smile but only Bucky could tell. "I still have my moment's but working at the VA has helped me a lot." Natasha nodded, satisfied with his answer. Now it was Bucky's turn to burn under her gaze. Just that Bucky didn't. He stood up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders and returned the sharp gaze she was giving him. Her eyes studied his face for a moment before her mouth bent into a smirk. "Sergeant James Barnes."

"My name is Bucky." Bucky corrected her coldly, his shoulder tightening even more, his neck growing stiff.

"Buck-." Steve wanted to reprimand him gently but Natasha held up a hand to silence him, this getting Bucky even more upset.

"Well colour me impressed." She cocked her head to the side gently and Bucky watched her red fringe slide across her forehead, "I guess Sam wasn't exaggerating when he said that you've made amazing progress. I read the reports you know? You were volatile."

"I know." Bucky's face hardened, "I was there."

"Really? Because well it didn't _seem_ like you were." Natasha pointed out spitefully. Steve sucked in a sharp breath, anxiously aware of the way Bucky's body went impossibly more rigid before becoming as still as a rock. Steve reached out his hand, resting it on Bucky's upper right arm, stroking his thumb over the black fabric of Bucky's t-shirt. "I was in here." Bucky lifted his left hand, tapping his metal index finger against his temple, "Here's the thing about being under mind-control, the part that nobody talks about…" He started, talking through gritted teeth like it physically hurt him to speak, "that you're still in there… Some small piece of you is awake, watching. Like being a passenger in your own body. You struggle to break free… but you lose… over and over again you lose... and it makes whatever you're forced to do that much worse." Bucky blinked, feeling the tell-tale burning of unshed tears behind his eyelids every time he did. Natasha looked stoic for the most part. Bucky saw it though. He saw the flicker of compassion in her green eyes, the echo of sadness behind her irises. Steve's hand brushed from his upper arm to his back gently and Bucky relaxed immediately, leaning closer to Steve, silently begging for more comfort. "Well then Bucky," Natasha smiled at him warmly, "I'm really pleased to meet you. Why don't you come inside?" She turned on her heel with the elegance of a ballerina, waving her hand in the air dismissively before looking over her shoulder and saying, "Clint should be with you boys in a moment."

"Was that a test?" Steve asked hoarsely, watching Natasha walk back to the building. His fingers were now twisted into the back of Bucky's t-shirt that was straining against his shoulders, holding up the weight of Steve's arm. "You can bet your ass it was." Sam laughed, shaking his head at Natasha.

"Hey Steve?" Bucky felt a wave of relief flood over him when Steve's blue eyes were finally looking at him again. It puzzled him but he decided to bench his thoughts on that feeling for a later stage. There was something far more important on is mind.

"Steve… where are we?"

* * *

The entrance hall resembled that of a vet's practice with white linoleum flooring and a large, wooden reception desk opposite to the door. Pictures of animals and a notice board were hung up on the wall of the waiting area that was situated to the right of the reception desk. Natasha was nowhere to be seen. She had probably disappeared through one of two doors, one of which was behind the reception desk.

"Steve I'm sorry about-."

"No." Bucky had wanted to apologize for his behaviour outside but Steve was quick to correct him, smiling at him with so much compassion that Bucky felt like he would drown in it at any moment, "You didn't do anything wrong." He promised his friend, raising his hand to brush a strand of brown hair behind Bucky's ear, "Natasha was pushing your buttons on purpose. She was just analysing you. She likes to do that with new people."

"And you passed the test." Sam chimed, earning a vehement nod of agreement from Steve who was now beaming proudly.

"Oh." Bucky breathed out, looking down at his feet. He didn't quite know how to respond. He was saved from figuring it out though, by the sound of a door opening. Their attention was drawn to the door on their left that had just opened. A sturdy man with short blond hair sauntered in. He had a causal air about him, one that put Bucky at ease. He was wearing grey jogging pants and a purple pullover that almost managed to hide the lean muscles underneath. His blue eyes were trained on the floor and his head was bobbing along to a tune he had stuck in his head. "Clint?" Sam spoke up but the man, Clint, didn't respond, "Why the hell does he switch his hearing aids off when he knows he's expecting visitors?" Sam directed the question at Steve who shrugged comically, earning a sigh from Sam.

"Oh!" Clint had finally noticed them one he was close enough to notice them in his periphery vision. His bright blue eyes shining welcomingly and a lazy smile showed his white teeth. His hand lifted to his ears, one at a time, to switch on both of his hearing aids. "Now I can hear ya!" He announced triumphantly, "How long have you guys been standin' there?" He added.

"Long enough." Sam scoffed playfully and Steve shoved at him, rolling his eyes at Sam. Clint on the other hand, was now looking at Bucky, leaving Sam and Steve to push at each other a little more. "You must be Sergeant Barnes."  
"Just Bucky." Bucky offered and Clint nodded eagerly, wearing one of the largest grins Bucky had ever seen.

"My name's Clint Barton. I own this place here." He didn't reach out his hand for Bucky to shake. Instead he gave the taller brunette a firm nod that was returned readily. Bucky liked Clint. To the untrained eye, Clint might have come across as nonchalant. It was quite the opposite to that actually. Bucky could see the way Clint watched everyone like a hawk but in a way that hardly anyone would notice. Bucky wondered whether Clint had served at some point. He studied the man's neck briefly, trying to spot the chain link necklace their dog tags were put on but he found nothing. Then again, Bucky also hadn't worn his dog tags since his therapy had started. "Are you ready Buck?" Steve voice had Bucky's entire attention immediately and he zoned back in to find Clint chatting to Sam about something animatedly and Steve keeping a watchful eye on his best friend.

Bucky didn't know what he needed to be ready for. Still, he knew just how good he was at adjusting to unexpected situations. "I am." Bucky confirmed with a small smile.

Besides, if Steve was with him, Bucky could face his worst nightmares if he needed to.

* * *

This was definitely _not_ what Bucky had expected.

They were walking along a corridor made of glass walls. Large rooms filled with cats and kittens stretched out behind the walls. Cat flaps led out to what Bucky could only figure was one of the meadows he had seen. The furry little creatures crowded against the glass walls, peering curiously at the newcomers, paws and noses pushed up against the cold glass. Some meowed, unheard through the thick glass but Bucky knew what meowing sounded like and his mind helpfully filled in the blanks.

"Hurry before I take one home." Sam muttered, averting his eyes from a particularly cute ball of fluff, undoubtedly a kitten, staring intently at him with the cutest green eyes imaginable. "Wouldn't do you any harm." Clint looked at Sam over his shoulder, smirking.

"Are you trying to play at the fact that I don't have a girlfriend?" Sam countered with a mock-glare.

"Hey." Clint lifted his hands up in surrender, "You said it, not me."

"What is this?" Bucky asked, looking from the kittens to Steve who looked rather smitten with the many felines surrounding them.

"You're at Barton's Pet Shelter my friend." Clint spoke up before Steve could, "Sam and Steve asked me for a little favour which is why you're here today."

"What favour?" Just as Bucky asked that, they reached the end of the passage and walked through a pair of swinging wooden doors. The room behind the doors was built up in a similar fashion to the corridor with side walls made completely of glass. Dogs and cats of all sizes and breeds were housed in the many large kennels lit up by skylights that let in the sun's radiant light. Each kennel had access to the meadows that were fenced off according to race and breed of the animals. A small desk stood in front of a small section of the wall made of brick. A panorama window along the rest of the back wall gave a great view of a meadow clearly used for dog training.

"Come with me then, Bucky." Clint gestured for Bucky to follow him but the latter hesitated when he noticed that Steve wasn't making a move to follow Clint. "I'll catch up in a few minutes." Steve promised with an earnest smile. Bucky didn't budge. Going off with Clint and leaving Steve there made Bucky feel anxious. "I promise I'll be right there, Buck, trust me." Steve encouraged him, waving him in Clint's direction. Bucky looked at Steve for a long moment before relenting and following Clint to one of the doors between two kennels, looking at Steve over his shoulder before going through said door and disappearing out of sight.

"Calm down there." Sam spoke up once he was sure that Bucky was gone. Steve was bouncing on the balls of his feet restlessly. Now that Bucky was no longer around, Steve could openly show just how excited and impatient he was. "I really wanna know if this works or not." Steve admitted sheepishly, trying to force himself to hold still. His muscles were twitching uncomfortably, his hands drumming against his thighs. Sam chuckled. "Of course it'll work. We need to give him a chance to go in there on his own first though. He needs to make a choice by himself without relying on you for directions."  
"Do you really think he still relies that much on me?" Steve asked Sam although he knew the answer already, receiving a deadpan expression in reply that had Steve laughing, "Okay I get it." He held his hands up in surrender, still laughing quietly to himself.

"And somehow…" Sam hesitated, pocketing his hands and looking out the panorama window while he continued, "I think you'd hate it if he didn't depend on you anymore."

"That's not true!" Steve protested immediately but even he could hear how unconvincing that sounded.

"He's always gonna need you Steve." Sam assured him with a smile, "Just like you're always gonna need him. You guys're sappy like that."

That had Steve grinning like an idiot.

* * *

When Steve was _finally_ allowed to join Bucky, Sam and him found Clint standing outside a kennel, arms crossed and smiling. At first, while they walked over to the kennel, Steve could only see Clint. Once he was standing next to Clint though, and his eyes had settled on Bucky, he was smiling just as much as Clint was, if not more. Bucky was settled into the corner of a small room with fake grass on the floor. His legs were spread out in front of him, essentially covered by dog bodies that looked to be around one to two years old. The dogs ranged from Golden Retrievers to German Shepard dogs, all scrambling around clumsily without a care in the world, inspecting the new addition to the room with great interest. Each young dog had a bandana tied around its neck, red for female and blue for male. It was only once Steve had managed to take in the bustling bunch of puppies that he managed to really focus on Bucky. As soon as Steve took in the peaceful, carefree look on Bucky's face, his hand lifted to cover his mouth, silencing a gasp.

"I know right?" Clint muttered, "He was pretty lost at first but they were so eager that he eventually just sat down to let them do their thing. Now he's like a completely different person. He's got good energy. They love 'em."

"And it looks like he's made his choice." Sam chimed. There, nestled in Bucky's arms lay a young snow white German Shepard, one ear pointed upright while the other flopped to the side cutely. It looked to be the smallest of the group with messy white fur and a bony face. Its deep brown eyes were trained on Bucky who was smiling down at it. The dog barked, bobbing its head a few times before ducking down to lick Bucky's metal arm. It obviously didn't like the taste of it because it shook its head, flopping its ears back and forth. It looked to Steve as though Bucky laughed at that, lifting his right hand to pet the dog on the head. Steve had to remind himself to breathe. Relief, happiness, pride, sadness- all of those emotions and more came bubbling up in Steve like a geyser and he pursed his lips, focusing on his breathing to calm himself down. He felt a little teary even and of course Bucky chose that moment to look up and see Steve standing on the other side of the glass. His storm-blue eyes widened marginally and his mouth fell open right before spreading into a huge grin. The grinning figure of Bucky turned into a blob in Steve's vision and he bowed his head, laughing defeatedly while trying to wipe his tears away. He heard the door to the kennel open, heard Clint complain about "hyperactive puppers" and then he felt a cold nose against his cheek. He laughed, lifting his head to find two brown eyes looking up at him soulfully. For the briefest of moments, Steve wondered how Bucky managed to actually hold the dog without dropping her. "Hey there." Steve greeted the German Shephard. Her white tail started wagging back and forth enthusiastically and she nudged at Steve again for some more attention. She leant forward so much that she had to prop herself up against Bucky's arms and only then did Steve see that the ball of messy fur only had three legs. Her left front leg was missing. Steve looked from the dog to Bucky who was watching Steve intently. Steve had a question in his eyes, a question that was immediately answered once he'd looked Bucky in the eyes. Yes. Bucky had made his choice.

"She's your service dog." Steve explained breathlessly, "She's been trained to help veterans like you deal with PTSD."

"Graduated two days ago, actually." Clint added, pride evident in his voice. Realization spread across Bucky's features and he looked back down at the dog in his arms, holding her a little closer now. "This is the surprise?" He asked Steve quietly, raising his eyes again slowly.

"Yeah Buck. You're done with your intense therapy. Getting you a service dog was the last step. It's been a year now." Steve averted his eyes, swallowing his way around the lump in his throat, "A year ago today, I was called to the police station to help a veteran with an extreme case of PTSD."

"She'll snap you out of any flashbacks or panic attacks that you may have." Sam explained, "When you have nightmares she'll wake you up as well before they can get out of control. This dog is your ticket to living independently."

"You're free now Buck." Steve whispered, knowing that talking any louder would make his voice give out, "Rhodey says you're free to move into your own apartment now too." A wave of sadness washed over Steve like a shower of cold water and he bowed his head, trying to hide his emotions as best as he could.

Bucky was free now.

He could come and go as he pleased. He could take whatever direction he desired for his life. He could look for a new job a new apartment- start a new life. Steve tried to remind himself of what Sam had said earlier, that Bucky would always need him and it dawned on him that Sam must have said it on purpose. Sam must have known that Steve was eventually going to worry about Bucky leaving him now that he had his ticket to freedom.

"Thank you." Bucky bent down, putting the dog down carefully before straightening up again. Steve was still looking at anything but Bucky so he didn't notice Bucky take a step towards him until Bucky brushed his left hand over Steve's right wrist to get his attention. "Thank you." He repeated when Steve looked up at him. It was like Bucky was desperate to make Steve understand just how thankful he was. "Thank you for everything that you've done Stevie. You saved my life."

"It's a pleasure Buck."

"Will you do me one more favour though?" Bucky ducked his head a little, looking uncertain. Steve smiled at him, nodding vehemently in hopes that it would encourage Bucky to talk. Of course he'd do Bucky a favour. In fact, now that Steve thought about it, this was the first favour Bucky was asking for ever since he'd asked Steve to trigger him.

"Let me stay with you Steve. Please. I want to stay with you."

* * *

There you go! I really hope you enjoyed it!

Let me know what you think!

And thank you so so much for reading the fanfiction up until now!


	16. Chapter 16

Hey guys!  
Thank you soooo much for your amazing reviews for the last chapter! They really made my day and put a huge smile on my face! I'm so glad you're enjoying the fanfiction thus far! :)

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

" _You're free now, Bucky."_

"Over here, Steve?" Bucky looked to Steve who was sitting at the island in the middle of their new open kitchen. The men Sam had insisted on hiring to help move their furniture were gawking at Bucky who held Steve's beige canvas couch like it weighed nothing. "There's perfect Buck!" Steve grinned at Bucky who smiled back briefly before putting the couch down carefully as not to damage the wooden floor. He scooted it around until it was facing the flat screen TV mounted on the wall between two curtained windows. "We'll finish off here." Steve glanced over at the movers, "Could you do us a favour and start moving Bucky's furniture into his room? They're marked with the red stickers." They all nodded readily, stealing one more glance at Bucky and his metal arm before disappearing out of the apartment's front door. They'd found a nice apartment close to where Bucky used to live with his parents when he was younger. At first, Bucky had suggested that he move in with Steve but Steve had wanted to start over, leave his old apartment and the memories it forced on him, behind. The smell of paint still hung in the air a little. Both men had quickly agreed that a dark shade of grey wasn't going to stay on the living room and kitchen walls. Instead, they had settled on white with an accent running along the upper half of the wall in a thin, red stripe. It wasn't a signal red like the star on Bucky's shoulder; instead it was a wine red, dark and calming against the ivory white. The countertops in the kitchen were made of black marble and reflected any trace of light in the room. The appliances were new and shiny, all a matching silver. Steve had paid careful attention to every detail, wanting to make the apartment harmonious in as many ways as possible. Sam had told him that a neat, clean home would do Bucky the world of good.

"What're you working on there, Stevie?" Bucky had finished off with the couch and had made his way over to Steve, peering over Steve's shoulder at the large A2 poster on the countertop. "It's to help us organise everything." Steve explained.

"You're making a weekly planner?" Bucky asked, leaning down a little until his chin was resting against the top of Steve's head gently.

"Well yeah." Steve muttered defensively. He hadn't missed the note of perplexity in Bucky's voice.

"Sam told me you get Apps for that now."

"We don't need to use an App for that Buck." Steve insisted, "What's wrong with using pen and paper for this?"

"Nothing." Bucky smiled, burying his nose in Steve's soft hair, "We'll use pen and paper then."

"Thanks Buck." Steve's eyes crinkled at the edges and he continued to draw neat lines with a ruler, separating days and hours.

"You gonna make a new one of these every week?" Bucky asked after a short pause.

"No. I'm gonna get this laminated so we can write on it with board markers."

"But Steve." Bucky pulled back, his horrified tone of voice driving Steve to turn in his seat to look at him. Bucky's eyes were wide and he had lifted his right hand to cover his mouth. "What's the matter Buck?" Steve asked, genuinely concerned. Bucky might have finished his intense therapy but that didn't mean he was completely healthy again- if he'll ever be. "You really wanna get it laminated?" Bucky asked, "Isn't that…. Well its modern technology Steve and that just won't do!"

"Oh shove off!" Steve glared at him, shoving at Bucky's left shoulder playfully, "You're full of it, you know that Buck?" Steve added when Bucky started laughing.

"I know but c'mon Stevie! Drawing up a plan on paper like we did back in school?" Bucky bent forward a little, trying to stifle his laughter using his hand. Steve huffed, attempting to smother the grin that spread across his face.

Bucky's laugh was just like he remembered it from all those years back- it was the most beautiful sound in the world to Steve and he couldn't quite get enough of it.

Bucky's rare display of laughter was cut short by the sound of Steve's phone ringing. Groaning, Steve hopped off the bar stool, dragging his socked feet over the wood while he hurried to his own bedroom where he'd left his phone. "I'll go help the movers with my room." Bucky called out from where Steve had left him. "Alright!" Steve called back just as he reached his bed with its bedside table. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach when he recognized the eagle on his phone screen. The contact name made his jaw tighten and his heart began beating a little faster. He knew he couldn't ignore this call. If he ignored it, it was only a matter of time before they showed up at Steve and Bucky's front door and that was the last thing Steve needed. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before swiping the green icon across the screen to answer the call. "Steve Rogers." He swallowed, steeling himself for that familiar, respect-demanding voice. "Nick Fury here. It's good to see that you're doing well Captain."

"With all due respect, Director Fury, but I doubt you called to make small talk." Steve shot back, moving to close his bedroom door before taking a seat at his desk. He proceeded to tap his fingers over the dark wood of his desk repeatedly while he listened to Nick Fury talk. "You're right Rogers. I didn't call to see how you were doing. I also didn't call to ask about the fact that you're moving together with an ex-assassin."

"Bucky's been pardoned." Steve insisted tightly.

"I know. We were the ones to authorize it." The director of Shield explained calmly, "There _is_ something concerning him that I need to talk to you about, though." Steve worked his jaw anxiously, eyes searching his room for a suitable distraction. He didn't want to discuss anything with Fury. He didn't hate the man, it was quite the opposite actually. He owed a lot to Fury: Fury had let Steve off without a disciplinary hearing after Steve had jeopardized the last SWAT mission he was on by almost letting himself get killed. Everyone on his team knew what had happened- Steve didn't make the kind of mistakes he had made on that mission. They all knew he had done it on purpose and of course they were legally bound to tell Fury just that once they had all managed, by some miracle, to get out of there alive.

"What is it?" Steve asked, turning his head away from his smartphone to stop Fury from hearing his sigh.

"We took Brock Rumlow into our custody three weeks ago, after your buddy, your Bucky, did one hell of'a number on him." Steve stiffened, his finger-tapping getting a little louder, more frantic, "We sent Rumlow back into Hydra as an informant and he managed to pick up some information about Sergeant Barnes."

"And what's that?"

"They're looking for him." It felt to Steve as though someone had just dunked a bucket of ice water on him. His heart did a jump in his chest and a shuddering breath rattled his chest, forcing its way along his Trachea and out of his mouth. "They're… what?" Steve whispered, trembling blue eyes darting to the door, afraid that Bucky might hear him although he knew that Bucky was preoccupied with getting his room finished. "The Winter Soldier was their best asset Rogers; do you honestly think they'll just let him go like that?"

"I was hoping that... I mean. After. It was. They…" He closed his eyes as tightly as possible, pinching the bridge of his nose while forcing his mind to slow down, "It's been a year. Why haven't they found him yet?"

"We had no data on him." Fury's voice had gone deeper, an emotion, maybe compassion lining his every word, "All the information on James Barnes was kept at the police station he was being held at. The case wasn't made public and Hydra didn't know where to start looking. He was rescued in Russia which isn't exactly close to New York, never mind a small police station close to Manhattan."

"And we didn't go out into public with Bucky often so there were no sightings." Steve pitched in.

"He didn't open a new bank account under his name, didn't sign a mortgage or get a phone contract." Fury added, "Until now."

"Until now." Steve echoed. He was grasping his phone so tightly that its usually harmless edges were digging into the side of his palm painfully. He could hear his racing heartbeat in the ear that was pressed against his smartphone. He felt lightheaded, his legs wracked with pins and needles.

"Why are you telling me this?" Steve asked at a hoarse whisper.

"Because we need you Cap."

"I retired. I quit. I wasn't fit for duty. You know that I almost screwed up Fury I can't-."

"You have something to fight for now, don't you Rogers?"

"I would fight the whole damn world for him, sir." Steve admitted unabashedly, his voice coming out firmer than it had throughout their entire conversation. Fury huffed, an unseen nod accompanying the noise. "Then fight for Barnes. Help us stop the men that are trying to take his freedom away from him again."

"Bucky definitely won't want me to go." Steve admitted, running a hand through his blond hair worriedly.

"I'll leave the convincing up to you." Fury said, "I wouldn't be asking you if I weren't desperate Steve. Without you and Rumlow, I've lost two of my best men."

"I know." Steve admitted, bowing his head, "And Hydra… they're…"

"Dangerous." Fury affirmed, "I need you to lead this mission Steve. If we can put their science division out of business, destroy their files, then we can get to work on taking Hydra apart slowly, one agent at a time without having to worry that those bastards get their filthy hands on Barnes again."

"Okay." Steve closed his eyes, heaving a sigh before speaking up again, "I'll do it. This one mission. For Bucky."

"Thank you, Captain."

"When does the mission start?"

"As soon as you're ready."

* * *

For the rest of the day, Steve found himself avoiding Bucky as much as he could, retreating to his room to unpack the rest of his things. Eventually, the boxes were folded up, leaning against the wall next to the door, ready to be recycled. Shelves were full, the bed was covered in Steve's favourite blue duvet and the desk was set up for any sort of work Steve would have to do. Steve's easel stood next to his dresser, the light from his large window falling onto the easel perfectly. Bucky had insisted Steve take this room, despite it being bigger, because he had immediately noticed that the light was perfect for sketching or painting. Steve's eyes found the framed picture of him and Bucky on his dresser next to the tissue box. Bucky still hadn't managed to replicate that carefree smile. He'd been smiling a lot more nowadays, especially ever since Steve had happily agreed to moving together with Bucky again, like they had after Steve's parents had passed away. Flake, as Bucky had dubbed his new service dog, was working miracles, finally enabling Bucky to get some decent sleep. Even knowing that she was there, sleeping at the foot of his bed, was enough to give Bucky the peace of mind that he needed to fall asleep in the evenings.

"Stevie? You in there?" Steve's eyes shot to his door and he got up hastily, moving to sit on his bed and look as casual as possible.

"Door's unlocked Buck." Steve replied. Before Bucky had shipped out, he wouldn't even have knocked, he'd simply have waltzed in without warning. Steve wasn't really complaining about this particular change in habit. The door handle went down and the door opened without a single sound from the hinges. Bucky was wearing a pair of grey jogging pants and a black t-shirt. His long brown hair was damp, tied back in a bun to keep it out of his face. On closer inspection, Steve saw that Bucky's cheeks were slightly flushed. How had Steve not heard the shower running?

"The movers left twenty minutes ago, by the way." Bucky denounced, sauntering into the room, taking his time to look around, "You finished unpacking. Looks nice." He added. Then, his protruding, bright eyes came to rest on Steve. Steve averted his eyes immediately, guilt twisting his gut into a thousand knots. Wordlessly, Bucky made his way over to Steve's bed, sitting down next to him. Steve could smell the apple-scented shampoo that he'd bought Bucky the week before.

"Wanna talk about it?" Bucky asked gently, nudging Steve with his shoulder encouragingly.

"What would you do if someone was trying to lock me away?" Steve risked a glance at Bucky, noting the puzzled look on Bucky's face, "Not the police. Bad people."

"I'd put a bullet between their eyes." Bucky replied immediately, frowning when Steve chuckled, "I mean that Steve. I'm not gonna let anyone touch you." Steve's stomach did a little flip and he had to remind himself what this was about to stop himself from blushing.

"I know you would." Steve replied, leaning over so that his shoulder was pressed against Bucky's, "I'd do the same for you, you know."

"Sure you would Stevie."

"I mean that too." Steve looked Bucky in the eye determinedly, "I won't let anyone do that to you again."

"Is this what you've been thinking about all afternoon?" Bucky asked, tilting his head a little, "That why you didn't come out?"

"I got a call from Fury." Steve decided to stop beating around the bush and just spit it out, realizing to his dismay, that there was no way to sugarcoat this. "Someone I'm supposed to know?" Bucky asked, knowing that his memory still wasn't everything it should be. Steve shook his head before saying, "Nick Fury is the director of Shield."

"Your old employer?" Bucky asked and Steve nodded, "What did he want from you?"

"He's got a job for me."

"But you retired." Bucky's frown was getting stronger and stronger and Steve shifted, working his jaw while he thought about how best to break the news to his friend. "I told Fury the same thing." Steve began nervously, kneading his hands together while he spoke, "He said he needed me for a mission. He said that he needs someone with my skillset. It's not a long-term thing; just one mission."

"What did you say then?" Bucky asked. Steve's eyes widened with realization. Bucky wasn't going to ask him about his mission. He wasn't going to ask him about what he would have to do, where he was going to go. Maybe it was because Bucky, having been in the elite infantry, knew that certain things were confidential. Or it was because he was more worried about the troubled look in Steve's eyes in that moment. Maybe both. "I said yes."

"Figures." Bucky smirked half-heartedly, "Still got that hero-complex of yours."

"This isn't about that!" Steve insisted, "If I don't do this! Someone's gonna suffer."

"Steve, you can't help everyone." Bucky retaliated, a mix of concern and exasperation making him edgy.

"Buck you don't…" Steve broke off, taking a moment to rephrase his sentence before speaking up again quietly, "I have to do this Buck. I just _have_ to."

"Still trying to deal with your survivor's guilt, then?" Bucky shot back, his face growing a slight bit darker. Steve tensed, shifting to sit farther away from Bucky. He felt like he was being attacked, like he had to explain himself to Bucky. Which he didn't. He was doing this to protect Bucky so he had absolutely no explaining to do! He was doing the right thing! Bucky would do the same thing for Steve- he'd even said so himself. So then why did Steve feel guilty?

"What does this have to do with my survivor's guilt?" Steve grumbled defensively, crossing his arms across his chest. Bucky's eyes flicked to said arms before raking up towards Steve's eyes so slowly that it almost made Steve squirm. "You have survivor's guilt because of me." Bucky answered, bitterness lacing his tone. "It's not like you did it on purpose." Steve countered, "Can we discuss that some other time? This has nothing to do with that!"

"What the hell is this about then, Steve?" Bucky raised his voice.

"It's about you!" Steve snapped, "It's about the fact that Hydra is looking for you and that if the SWAT team and I don't do something about it soon, they'll be standing in our apartment, dragging you out by your feet or worse, you actually go with them because they trigger you again and turn you into that soldier they love so much."  
Once the words had spilt out, Steve regretted it immediately. Bucky was no longer bitter, worried or angry- he was afraid. At first his face was vacant but then his eyes began to shimmer and tremble. His lips quivered and the plates making up his left arm shifted. The mask of vacancy on Bucky's face cracked then, just as a shuddering breath escaped his pink lips.  
"I _want_ to do this Bucky. I'm not gonna let them have you again. I can't lose you again." Steve insisted stubbornly.

"Please don't." Bucky mouthed almost soundlessly, "Don't go there Steve." Bucky was averting his eyes relentlessly, no matter how much Steve made it apparent that he was searching for Bucky's eyes. "Buck I have to."

"What if they hurt you? You don't know what you're dealing with Steve! This is Hydra!" Bucky's eyes flicked up to Steve's, boring into his with an intensity that made Steve's skin crawl.

"I've dealt with Hydra before Buck." Steve assured Bucky gently, "Let me do one more thing for you. Please." He implored, earnest, concerned eyes searching Bucky's stormy ones, trying to convey reassurance. Bucky looked like he was about to either cry or punch a hole into Steve's bedroom wall. He was coming apart in front of Steve like a ball of yarn and no matter how much Steve tried to hold him together, Bucky was slipping through his fingers. Bucky's eyes were darting, trembling, his jaw working. His shoulders were being strung tighter and tighter and when Steve looked down, he saw Bucky's metal hand knead his flesh one harshly, leaving red bruises on Bucky's skin.

"Talk to me Buck." Steve begged, scooting closer to Bucky so that their legs were pressed together. Bucky bowed his head, his mouth opening and closing, unsure of how to word his feelings. After a short pause, Bucky lifted his head, looking at Steve again. "I don't want them to hurt you." Bucky explained, "They can hurt people so _badly_. Not just physically." He lifted his right hand, tapping his trembling index finger against his temple, "It's all in here. They did it to me…" The memory of it seemed to make Bucky feel sick. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as tightly as he could.

"I'm here Buck." Steve promised, suddenly horribly aware that Flake wasn't with them but with Sam at the park. No. Steve could do this. He managed for a year without Flake. "Bucky. Look at me." He requested gently and Bucky complied, lifting his eyes to meet Steve's. He looked hesitant, like he was afraid of being punished. "What's going on in there?" Steve asked, smiling weakly in an attempt to comfort Bucky.

"I don't…" Bucky's voice faded and he gritted his teeth, missing a beat before trying again, "I don't want them to do the same to you. Not you Stevie. Not you."

"But you know that I can't just let them come for you." Steve all but whispered, turning to face Bucky completely and placing a hand on his to stop him from kneading his hands. "I'm not gonna change your mind, am I?" Bucky asked, looking up at Steve through his dark lashes. He looked incredibly fragile in that moment and it made Steve want to stay. More than anything, he wanted to stay and make sure that nothing ever hurt Bucky again. Thing is, he couldn't let Hydra close to Bucky. Facing Hydra again would tear Bucky down, bring back memories that had started fading in light of all the positive things he'd been experiencing. No. This was something Steve had to do. Even if it killed him. He _had_ to protect Bucky.

"No Buck. Sorry but not even you can change my mind about this."

"If you die Stevie… if you don't come back-."

"I will!" Steve assured Bucky firmly before the latter could continue, "I _will_ come back!"

"There're things I haven't figured out yet." Bucky said in a shaky voice, "So you have to come back. I need your help to figure them out."

"Okay." Steve smiled, lacing his fingers with the fingers of Bucky's right hand, holding onto his best friend's warm hand firmly. Bucky looked startled at first but then his face softened and he grasped onto Steve's hand tightly.

"When I get back, I'll help you figure the rest out." Steve promised, "We'll figure things out… together; until the end of the line."

* * *

Noooo Hydraaaa... :(  
So there you have it guys! I really hope you enjoyed it!  
Also, what do you think is gonna happen in the next few chapters?  
Thanks again for you encouraging words in the last reviews and thank you for sticking with me!

Dont forget to let me know what you thought of this chapter :)


	17. Chapter 17

Hey there guys! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS! You guys are honestly the best!  
So here you have the next chapter! Things are getting really serious guys! :0

* * *

 **Chapter 17**

He wasn't good at waiting. The Winter Soldier was a master at it but Bucky Barnes wasn't the most patient person to walk the earth. His right leg bobbed up and down nervously while he fidgeted, running the fingernail of his right index finger along one of the grooves of his left wrist, trying to clear the groove of non-existent dirt. His mind was racing. He knew that Steve had told him that there was no talking him out of it but still, his mind tried to come up with one, just _one_ reason good enough to keep Steve within his grasp. He'd lost Steve before, they'd taken him away from him once before- he couldn't bear the thought of that happening again. He had been up all night, pacing up and down in his room while forcing down the impulse to sneak into Steve's room and call Fury, tell him that this was a ridiculous idea and that he would only get Steve over Bucky's dead body. Steve wouldn't want Bucky to do that though, so he hadn't. Instead, he had spent his night pacing, waking Steve in time for his mission and had accompanied Steve to the Shield building. He could faintly remember the day he had left with the army. He didn't want this time to be like the last time. He was going to stand by Steve's side right until Steve left, the way Bucky had wanted Steve to all those years back. He _had_ to be okay with this, or, at lease pretend like he was. He had to make this as easy as possible for Steve. It's what Steve would do for Bucky.

He was snapped back to reality by a cold, wet nose that pushed against the back of his flesh hand. His eyes shifted from the linoleum floor to Flake who was watching him calmly. He sighed, running his hand over her head in a silent gesture of gratitude. Subconsciously, he was so focused on listening for any noises in the vacant corridor he was sitting in, that the sound of a lock clicking open almost hurt his ears. He lifted his head, eyes finding Steve immediately. He was standing right outside of the changing room, sheepish smile on his face. Bucky got up from the chair he had been sitting on, standing up to his full height and still, he felt smaller than Steve. Steve was dressed clad in black Kevlar. The bulletproof vest that adorned his chest reminded Bucky a little too much of the one he had worn as the Winter Soldier. Underneath the vest, he was wearing a long-sleeve turtleneck that obscured Steve's thick neck. An ammunition belt was strapped around his waist, holding up the loose black cargo pants he was wearing. Bucky's eyes went from Steve's long legs all the way up, past that horribly familiar vest, along the non-existent line of his neck until they rested on Steve's bright blue eyes. The azure blue of Steve's eyes looked like a beacon of light in the blanket of black covering his broad-shouldered body.

"Hey." Steve breathed out nervously, shifting uncomfortably under Bucky's strong gaze.

"Hey Stevie." Bucky attempted a smirk, hoping that it wasn't going to betray how unsettled he was to let Steve leave on this mission. He didn't want Steve to go. To him, in his memories and in his mind, Steve was still someone who needed to be protected; not someone who did the protecting. Sure, he had protected countless damsels in distress even when he had been tiny and fragile but Bucky had always had to help him out. The concept of Steve actually going so far as to fight _Hydra_ to protect _him_ hurt Bucky's mind, made him feel edgy, aggressive almost, the way he used to feel at the beginning of his therapy.

"Look like a proper soldier now." Bucky added in an attempt to disperse the nervous tension in Steve's frame.

"Yeah?" Steve asked bashfully, bowing his head and looking down at his heavy black boots, scuffing them across the floor like the girls used to when Bucky would compliment them. "Yeah. Just like you always wanted Stevie." The smile on Bucky's face was bittersweet and no matter how much Steve wanted to pretend like he didn't see it, the broken look on Bucky's face shook him to the core and broke his heart. "Thanks for coming to see me off." Steve added, looking around the empty corridor for lack of anything better to do with his eyes. "There ain't a place I'd rather be right now." Bucky assured Steve firmly. Then he did something that he hadn't done since the day before Bucky had left for his mission with the army. He slung his arm around Steve lazily, jostling him a little until Steve started laughing. He started walking, pulling Steve with him, firmly in his one-armed embrace. Steve didn't say anything, afraid of ruining the moment and Bucky stayed silent also, afraid that Steve would notice that he wasn't as relaxed about this is he might want Steve to believe.

* * *

A tall man wearing a black longcoat stood in front of a console, looking up at a screen that was easily the size of a cinema screen. Bucky remembered the room. Steve had shown him this part of the Shield building the last time they had visited. He had called it operations control. The room was built up similarly to the mission control rooms at NASA with rows of tables with computers at which agents were seated. Bucky's eyes were drawn to the side to an agent that was making his way over to them. He was scrawny with wrists so thin Bucky figured he could break them easily. His lanky legs moved without grace and his face was scrunched up in an attempt to seem composed. His eyes were darting, resting on Flake for a moment before looking between the two men. When he saw that Bucky was watching him, he averted his eyes for the rest of the way over, biting down on his lower lip nervously. "I… I'm sorry sir but…" The man looked from Bucky down to Flake who was standing to his left, sniffing out her surroundings attentively.

"She's my service dog." Bucky said shortly, "Got a problem with that?" The second part just slipped right out and if Bucky weren't slightly amused by the way the agent shrunk in on himself, he might have cringed apologetically. A gentle pressure against his left shoulder drew his attention to Steve. This time Bucky did cringe because Steve was frowning at him, his eyes shimmering with concern aimed more at Bucky than the agent. "Sorry." Bucky muttered, turning his attention back to the room to escape the look on Steve's face. "A… are you Captain Rogers?" The agent stuttered out, giving Steve a thankful glance when the latter turned his attention away from Bucky. "Yeah that's me." Steve affirmed, letting his hand slide down the entire length of Bucky's right arm in a reassuring gesture before letting his hand drop completely. The agent didn't notice and if he did, he was probably too scared of Bucky to show that he had. Instead, the agent nodded, looking over at the tall man at the console. "Director Fury said you'd be here. Mr. Stark wants to talk to you before you and your team head out."

"Stark?" Steve frowned, "What's Tony doing here?"

"Howard, actually." The agent corrected, pride making his chest swell a little, "Howard Stark has been helping Shield for the past two years. He's been helping us improve our weapons and armour."

"Figures a Stark would get involved in stuff like this." Bucky muttered, glancing at the agent who was doing everything in his power to pretend like Bucky wasn't there. The man's negative reaction was a clear indicator to Bucky that he must look just as tense as he felt. He was surprised that Flake hadn't intervened yet. "Is Howard around?" Steve kept the conversation going, working hard to make sure that his tone was relaxed and pleasant both for his sake and Bucky's. "Sure. Right this way, Captain." The man spun on his heel gracelessly, fumbling with his hands nervously while he scurried over to a table set up at the side of the room. Other men dressed in Kevlar were crowded around it. One man, well-aged with a white moustache and styled back hair, stood out. He was smiling brightly, gesticulating wildly while he spoke to one of the men. As soon as the agent had successfully escorted them to the table, he nodded at Steve and Bucky before taking his leave, looking rather relieved as he did so.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Steve!" Howard interrupted his conversation with the SWAT agent immediately, turning his undivided attention to Steve, "It's so good to finally meet you! I've heard so many stories about your time at Shield! I was ecstatic when I heard that I would get the chance to meet you in person."

"Well…" Steve trailed off, bowing his head to look at the floor. He was blushing, obviously at a loss for words. Steve had never been good at accepting or responding to compliments. The memory made Bucky smile lightly. "Who are your two companions?" Howard bent forward a little, stretching his hand out to pet Flake. She ignored the gesture, looking up at Bucky instead. Steve had expected Howard to be surprised at this but instead he smiled, nodding understandingly. "You have a well-trained service dog there." Howard commented before stretching out his hand to Bucky who took it with his left, giving it a brief shake. "Are you a friend of Steve's?" The question, for reasons unknown to Bucky, made the brunet bristle and Flake moved to stand between Howard and Bucky, giving Bucky more room. "Bucky's my best guy actually." Steve spoke up quickly, smiling proudly, eyes alight with fondness, "We've known each other ever since we were kids."

"It's good to have a friend like that, someone you can always rely on." Howard nodded, smiling at whatever person popped into his mind at the description, "Well!" And then the smile was gone and he clapped his hands together, whirling around like Tony always did and edging closer to the table. The men standing around the table cleared away instantly, giving Steve a nod while doing so. "Rhodey told me this proved useful last time?" Howard picked up a round shield from the table, holding it out for Steve to take. Bucky felt a cold shiver run down his spine when his brain immediately reminded him of what the shield felt like under his fists.

"The shield." Steve looked down at it, testing its weight while he slid his arm through the strap, "It was quite useful actually."

"Then please, take it with you on this mission." Howard said, tapping his index finger against the vibranium, "I'd like to see how it does during a real mission."

"With all due respect," Steve smiled, "if this thing managed to survive Bucky, then I'm sure it'll be able to take whatever Hydra throws at it."

"So you _are_ Sergeant James Barnes after all!" Howard looked far too excited by that fact than he should. Bucky tensed, Flake was on alert and Steve feared a repeat of any of the tense and awkward encounters Bucky had had with a different Stark. "I thought you looked familiar, I just didn't want to come out and say it right off the bat." Howard explained excitedly, "I read the report about how you went missing and then how you were found, brainwashed and lethal." Steve drew in a breath to talk, to defend Bucky in the same moment that Flake reached up her nose to shove at Bucky who was looking so tense that Steve was afraid his muscles might rupture.

"Hey there Steve!"

The tension drained from Bucky instantaneously and Flake licked her chops, bowing her head again once she felt the shift in him. Steve's eyes found the red-head who was sauntering towards them leisurely. He wanted to run up to her and hug her for all he cared. Natasha, as always, had impeccable timing. Her eyes were trained on Bucky who was still staring at Howard, who, totally oblivious to Bucky's glare, was smiling at Natasha.

"Good to see you." Steve breathed, giving her a tight hug, hoping that it would convey how _thankful_ he was that she had shown up when she did. "Hey there Barnes." Natasha's voice was firm, bold and demanding enough that it managed to snap Bucky out of it. He blinked, working his jaw for a moment before looking over at Natasha. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw that she was wearing a skin-tight spandex suit topped with leather padding. "What're you looking at me like that for?" Natasha bobbed her head to the side with a quirky smile, "How do you think I managed to read you file? You don't honestly think they leave them open for everyone to see?"

"What're you doing here then?" Bucky asked her.

"Well I was told that Captain Rogers needed some help kicking some butt and I was getting a little bored of the quiet life so I jumped aboard."

"Natasha used to work as an agent for Shield." Howard explained, "She was one of the best and undoubtedly the deadliest."

"She's a good spy but not really one for teamwork." Steve grinned, earning a shove from Natasha, "But still… I'm grateful that you came." He added, his smile fading when he pursed his lips, the line between his eyebrows appearing again, "We can use all the help we can get."

"Lighten up Rogers." Natasha smirked, "Up until now, there hasn't been a job either of us couldn't finish. We'll be fine."

Bucky wanted to yell at both of them. He wanted to tell them that they were being reckless. They had only taken twenty-four hours to plan this operation and in Bucky's mind, that was in no way long enough for the calibre of enemy they were about to face off against. He didn't doubt that Natasha was capable, in fact, he had a deep-rooted respect for her and that only from talking to her but still, this was _Hydra_! Why didn't anyone seem to understand that? Hydra had managed to exist, healthy and striving, since the second World War. An organization didn't manage that unless it was good. On top of that, they had managed to stay hidden, managed to experiment on humans for decades without anyone finding out. They had managed to assassinate a large number of important people without anyone even catching wind of them. Most of their success in that area rested solely on the Winter Soldier Project and it made Bucky sick to think about it. Bucky could still remember all of the assassinations they had made him do- the victims didn't even remotely suspect that anyone could be out for their lives and yet all of them were six feet under now and what if that happened to Steve? What if he was one of those victims that didn't see it coming? What if he went in there all optimistic just to be shot on sight? What if Steve didn't come back? What if they kept him? Turned him into another Winter Soldier? What if they made Steve forget Bucky? What would Bucky do then? If Steve no longer knew who Bucky was, then how was Bucky supposed to know? He needed Steve the way Pinocchio needed Jiminy Cricket! Steve wasn't _allowed_ to forget Bucky! If he did, then Bucky might as well be dead! What if they _hurt_ him?! What if they hurt _Steve_?! Not Steve! Not his Stevie! If anything happened to him. Oh god if anything happened to-.

A high-pitched bark and a warm hand on the back of his neck snapped him back to reality and he realized that he was breathing heavily, beads of sweat forming on his wrinkled forehead. He blinked his thoughts away, forcing his lungs to slow down. His lips were dry so he licked them, looking down at Flake before looking at Steve. "She didn't manage to snap you out of it immediately." Steve muttered, his voice soothing and laced with concern, "Bucky… is everything okay?"

"I'm fine." Bucky responded automatically. It was a lie that not even Howard Stark bought judging by the sceptical tilt of his head.

"It's about this mission." Steve answered his own question, "I know this is hard on you and I know you're not happy about me going but you know that I have to do this."

"You don't." Bucky begged to differ sharply, locking eyes with Steve's equally as stubborn ones.

"I do." He retorted quietly, "I won't be satisfied until every Hydra agent is either dead or captured. I'm not letting even a single one of them get their filthy hands on you again."

"Steve please." It was Bucky's last plea but it sounded hollow and tired like a long-forgotten cry for help. Bucky's shoulders slumped and he bowed his head, his long brown hair falling to curtain his face. "Hey." Steve said softly, lifting Bucky's chin with his hand, "One and a half days. That's how long I'll be gone. Sam said he'll pick you up after this and stay with you and before you know it, I'll be back."

"But Steve… Hydra…" Bucky didn't even care that he was in a room filled with agents. He didn't care that Howard Stark and Natasha Romanoff were right there, listening, watching. He felt like he was falling apart more and more the closer the moment of Steve's departure got and he could no longer hide it. Bucky wasn't panicking, he wasn't angry- Flake would have made herself known if either were the case. He was just… sad; so incredibly sad. To him, it already felt like Steve was gone, like the last of him was slipping through his fingers. He faintly remembered the first few wipes, the way he had clung onto the image of a frail, sickly Steve siting on their tattered old couch, sketching. He had reached out to that Steve, despite his shackles, despite his aching body. He had reached out, tried to grab a hold of him and hold on to him for dear life. He had been desperate to hold on to Steve because he had always been like an anchor in every storm, firm and unwavering. He had reached out but he had never quite been able to take a hold of him and eventually, the memory of Steve seeped through his fingers like sand, the only thing remaining being the name and the way it made him feel.

"Steve…"

"Do you trust me Buck?"

"Of course I do." Bucky's hazy eyes refocused and he focused on Steve's face. He counted the freckles again, one by one, taking his time, committing everything to memory. "Then trust me when I say that I can do this. I'm strong enough."

"You'll be back in one and half days?"

"I promise." Steve grinned at Bucky who attempted to smile back, "After all, someone's gotta look after you."

"Punk." Bucky breathed before wrapping Steve up in an impossibly tight hug, nestling his head firmly in the crook of Steve's neck.

"Jerk." Steve whispered, returning Bucky's desperate hug with the same sense of urgency, with the same sense of fear that maybe, Steve was wrong; that Steve wasn't going to make it back.

"I'll be back Buck." Steve mumbled, twisting Bucky's shirt in his fisted hands, taking in a deep breath of air, of Bucky, "I promise I'll be back. Before you know. I'll be back."

 _I'll be back._

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There you have it! The next chapter will be Steve going off to kick Hydra's butt! Let's hope everything works out the way Steve wants it to!  
So what did you guys think? Leave a review to let me know!

Thank you so much for reading up til now! I'll see you next week then!


	18. Chapter 18

Hey everyone!

So here you go! This is one of the longest chapters I've written for this fanfiction. I really hope you like it! Also, thank you so much for your amazing reviews! They motivate me to keep writing so thank you so much!  
Enjoy the chapter! Stevie's gonna go kick butt ya'll!

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 **Chapter 18**

" _He didn't tell you, did he? That he almost killed himself on his last mission."_

Steve was gone. He was gone. He was gone and Bucky felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He wanted to scream, wanted to sink to the ground. He felt like he was back in Hydra's facility, locked into an isolation cell. He couldn't recall how long they had left him in there, how long he was forced to be alone with the Soldier. He didn't know how long they had forced him to be by himself with his mixed up, fragmented memories and the reality that he was now a killer. He couldn't recall any of his thoughts that had blurred together into white noise that only cleared once someone came to drag him out of the cold cell.

Being alone had become the worst type of torture imaginable for Bucky, considering his past. Steve kept Bucky's eyes on the future, kept him focused on the positives. Steve was the light to the darkness Hydra had put into Bucky's soul. Bucky hoped that, if Steve was around long enough, that the darkness would disappear completely. But now, Steve had gone off to fight the very people that had the power to break Bucky down into his smallest pieces and reassemble him, mould him into a monster against his will. The thought of possibly losing Steve hurt Bucky, made him feel as though he had barbed wire wrapped around his throat and lungs, digging into his flesh mercilessly. It made him feel like he was falling apart, like the coping-mechanisms Sam and Steve had taught him were useless. He felt like he was being pulled back farther and farther into his past, to a mindset that was volatile and instable like a house of cards. But no. He had to keep it together. At least until Sam had brought him back to their apartment. At least until he could crawl under Steve's blankets and wait for him there.

Bucky clutched onto the single dog tag resting in his hand. He'd given the second one and the chain to Steve, insisting he take it with him. Once the Shield jet had taken off, carrying Steve to Europe and out of sight, out of reach, Bucky had resorted to staring down at his dog tag dismally, waiting for Sam to fetch him. He didn't trust himself to move on his own. He wanted orders again, someone who could help him navigate through the unbearable feeling of unease welling up in him. "James B. Barnes." He read the name out loud, like a reminder to himself, running his metal thumb across the thin metal sheet.

He thought that maybe he had just figured something out… that something had dawned on him the moment he'd watched Steve walk up the ramp at the back of the jet. The problem was, now that Steve wasn't around, Bucky didn't know what to do with this new revelation…

"There he goes." A man, Bucky recognized him from operations control, drew up next to him on the aircraft pad. He was wearing an eyepatch over one of his eyes, the strap clearly visible on his bald head.  
"Sir?" Bucky didn't know why he was addressing the man with sir, but something about the man demanded his respect. He had the look of a general and his long black cloak was nothing short of imposing all on its own, even without the eyepatch and the cold glare in his remaining eye. "I saw you standing with Cap before he left. Am I right in assuming you're James Barnes?"

"Yeah. And you are?"

"Director Nickolas J. Fury." The man introduced himself, folding his gloved hands behind his back. His eye was on the sky, settled there where the jet had disappeared behind a cluster of clouds painted orange by the setting sun, "I am the Director of Shield. I supervised Captain Rogers' last mission before he was forced to resign." A spark, a memory that had initially bothered Bucky, drifted back to the surface. When they had first visited Shield, Bucky had taken note of the fact that Steve had seemed a little off, like he was keeping something from Bucky knowingly. A secret; something Steve didn't want Bucky to know about. Steve had mentioned that he had resigned, not that he had been _forced_ to resign.  
"He was discharged?" Buck voiced his confusion, looking over at Fury for clarification. Fury averted his eye from the sky to look at Bucky, nodding slowly when he saw how confused Bucky looked. "What version of the story did he tell you?" Fury asked him quietly.

"He told me he resigned shortly after he heard that I had apparently died overseas."

"Shortly being roughly a year afterwards." Fury stated, looking back at the red sky overhead, "After he got the news, he threw himself into work, tried to take as many jobs as he could."

"Trying to cope." Bucky frowned and Fury nodded, "So what's your version, Director?" Bucky clenched his jaw, biting down on his tongue. An uneasy feeling welled up in his stomach. He felt antsy, uncomfortable. His right hand found Flake's head instinctively, searching for an anchor which the dog readily supplied.  
"After his last mission, Steve and I both agreed that it was better he resign. We decided to forgo any disciplinary actions in light of the circumstances he was in but we were unable to keep him."

"Disciplinary-." Bucky shook his head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, "Why would you need to take any disciplinary actions?"

"He didn't tell you, did he? That he almost killed himself on his last mission."

It felt to Bucky as though someone had just poured ice water down his throat right before setting his skin on fire. His balance set out and he stumbled to the side a little only barely managing to catch himself before he fell over. "He wouldn't. But Steve. What do you mean he…" his voice trailed off, a symptom of his inability to form a coherent sentence. Flake nudged him, pressing herself against his leg to ground him.  
"He only joined Shield because of you, you know?" Fury added casually, "He came here with the goal to form a team strong enough to fight overseas, to assist the army. To assist you." Fury seemed unaware or completely indifferent to Bucky's diminishing composure. Bucky was hyperventilating, his chest tightening uncomfortably. The plates of his metal arm were recalibrating, the stress he was under fooling the arm into thinking it was going to be used at any moment. He felt like he was in a nightmare, falling. He felt like he did in the moments after the IED had gone off, tearing their truck and their bodies into pieces. It was a numb feeling, like he was completely detached from reality, floating and unable to grasp onto anything of substance.

Steve had tried to end his life.

Steve, the man who never gave up had almost given up, had almost thrown everything away. The last mission he had gone on had almost cost him his life and now he was out there again, with the same team, wearing the same uniform… probably ready to throw his life away if he needed to…

"Told him not to do anything stupid until I get back." Bucky gritted out hoarsely.

Suddenly everything became crystal clear again and his mind settled, his body stilling. Without a word, he turned to the exit, walking past agents that watched him warily while making sure to keep out of his way. Flake was right at his side, trotting to keep up with him.

* * *

Steve shivered. He was glad that they were finally out of the snow. The inside of the base wasn't that much warmer than outside though, their breath still clearly visible every time they exhaled. The guards were lying at his feet, dead. It had been quite some time since he'd seen dead bodies lying around, blood spilling out of their corpses. It was a sight he didn't digest easily but his mind was stubbornly set on only one goal- destroy Hydra. His blue eyes skimmed over every corpse, making sure none of them were breathing anymore. They couldn't afford to have one of them get up and alert the others of the team's presence. Once he was satisfied, his eyes flicked to Natasha who had been checking the corpses also. She nodded briefly, confirming that every agent was dead and posed no threat to their operation. "Okay let's go." Steve whispered, "Stay close to the walls, stay quiet and stay behind me."

"Roger that." The team responded, matching Steve's whisper. Natasha and Dum Dum were directly behind Steve, pressing their bodies against the grey concrete wall. The other members that Steve had personally chosen, Jim Morita, Gabe Jones, Dernier and Falsworth, were close at their heels, muted guns pointing forward. The team consisted of Steve's old SWAT-mates. Most of them had retired or gone on to other jobs within Shield after Steve had been discharged. When Steve had asked them for their help though, they had jumped on the bandwagon immediately. Most of them hadn't even asked what the help consisted of. All they wanted to do was help Steve, readily, regardless of what he needed help with, regardless of the risk or the cost. They were the closest Steve had had to a family after Bucky's apparent death. On their flight to Europe, Steve had quickly found himself regretting his decision not to contact his team after he left Shield. They deserved better. And so, Steve had promised himself that if he survived this, he would never lose sight of his brothers in arms again. Not after how unconditionally supportive they had been, even after Steve had jeopardized their last mission.

The corridors they walked through were bland, made of concrete. Pipes hung above their heads along with improvised lamps that swayed precariously, some flickering as though they were about to burn out. Steve wasn't sure whether it was starting to get warmer the longer they walked, or whether he was simply getting used to the temperatures. Natasha had the best hearing out of all of them, keeping her ears perked for the sound of approaching agents. When too many agents were making their way towards them, they would hide quickly, disappearing into dark corners effortlessly, waiting for the group of agents to pass. While they walked, Steve at the front of their group, he used his shield to cover his body and the people behind him as best as he could. Guns were pointed in the direction they were walking, hearts hammering, adrenaline going and silent prayers being prayed like mantras.

The deeper they got into the facility, the more Steve managed to make out directions written on the walls in a variety of different colours. Whatever Russian Steve didn't understand, Natasha translated with ease. They had two goals: the science facility and the control room. Steve had suggested the strategy that they would split up. Some of them would head to the science facility while the others would aim for the control centre of the base to put as many Hydra agents out of commission as possible before they could get away and alert the other bases.

Steve hadn't been on a lot of missions with Natasha but it didn't take long before every single one of them was entirely convinced that Natasha was frighteningly good at silent assassinations.

"Glad she's on our side." Dum Dum muttered and the rest agreed with a unanimous nod.

"Left." Natasha hissed and Steve slowed down, edging closer to the corner they were about to go around. He drew in a sharp breath when he heard two pairs of footsteps making their way towards them. Steve held up his free hand, forming a two with his fingers. Natasha nodded, edging to stand next to Steve, crouching down, ready to pounce. Steve had hardly seen the two men coming around the corner before Natasha jumped into action. She used the wall to catapult herself at one of them, wrapping her legs around his neck and dragging him to the floor. Instinctively, Steve pulled the shield to the side, and punched the remaining man in the face with his right hand. The man stumbled but managed to break his fall with the wall. Steve noticed him draw in a sharp breath like he was about to yell and he drew his left arm back before bringing it forward and slamming the side of the shield into the man's temple. The vibranium whistled, the shock of the impact buzzing through Steve's arm. A few droplets of blood stained the silver vibranium but the man was silenced, sliding to the floor limply, eyes rolling back in his head.  
"I need to get me one of those." Falsworth commented jokily, earning some chuckles from his comrades.

"Are you done yet?" Natasha asked Steve, leaning against the wall next to the man whose neck she had snapped.

"When did you do that?" Dum Dum asked her and she smirked at him.

"While Steve was still trying to figure out how to fight." Steve smiled at her, rolling his eyes before taking the lead again.

"Get ready everyone. We're getting closer to the point where we're going to have to split up." Steve announced quietly and everyone nodded. The smiles on their faces were replaced by concentrated frowns instantly and Steve took a deep breath, lifting his shield and moving forward, taking the corner to the left.

* * *

"Is it just me or is this place pretty poorly guarded?" Dum Dum whispered once they'd split up. The larger group had gone to the command centre of the building, knowing that there were bound to be more agents around there, leaving Steve and Dum Dum to find the science department on their own. "Agreed." Steve whispered back, "Maybe it's because they don't have an Asset to protect anymore."

"Do you really think they just gave up after Bucky escaped?" Dum Dum asked, readjusting his melon hat before lifting his gun again, pointing it ahead of Steve while he followed the taller blond.

"I wish they had." Steve confided dismally, "They were looking for leads to follow in order to find Bucky. Up until two weeks ago, Bucky had been completely off the radar but now he's got his own phone and own place. He's leaving footprints to follow again so they're bound to find him eventually."

"Makes sense." Dum Dum nodded, "That's probably why it's so quiet here. They're more focused on finding the Asset than making a new one."

"My guess is that they're spread out across the other Hydra bases now." Steve whispered.

"Spread out to follow as many leads on Bucky as possible." Dum Dum agreed, frowning.

"Probably. But if we can stop their science branch and destroy all the records on the Winter Solder, it'll be a lot easier to flush out the rest. The Winter Soldier Project is bound to be confidential. I doubt a lot of agents were told the specifics."

"Then let's make sure we kick their asses, huh Captain?" Dum Dum smirked. Steve risked a glance over his shoulder to shoot Dum Dum a smirk of his own. "That's the plan." Steve affirmed, turning his attention back to the front to watch the path ahead.  
The two fell into a comfortable, focused silence while they advanced, following the writing on the wall towards the science facility. There were hardly any guards around and those that were, were quickly silenced with the help of Steve's shield and Dum Dum's fist. The two worked together seamlessly, understanding each other without words, bodies dancing around each other while they fought. Steve had to admit that part of him had missed this. He missed being a part of a team. Sure, working with Sam was similar to working in a team but he didn't have the same feeling of comradery that he got when he was with his SWAT team.

Steve's calves were starting to ache from him trying to be light-footed. The weight of the boots was a weight he was no-longer used to carrying and the uniform he was wearing weighed down on him greatly. He kept having to remind himself to breathe, to think clearly, to stop his mind from wandering to Bucky. He had promised Bucky that he'd be back within one and a half days. The flight to Europe had taken them roughly half a day and everything from that point on had been a blur. Steve didn't know how much time had gone by since then. He also didn't know how long they'd been in the Hydra base. He hoped he'd still make it back in time without making Bucky worry. His fingers itched to pull out the dog tag he had stuffed underneath his shirt, wanted to see Bucky's name, wanted to feel connected to him despite the ocean that lay between them.  
Steve was ripped back to reality violently by the sound of a gun being fired. The whistling vibranium vibrated against his arm, the shield deflecting the bullet effortlessly. But a gunshot had been fired. A loud gunshot. How could Steve lose focus like that?! He gritted his teeth angrily, lurching forward, kicking the man in the knee, crushing his kneecap. The agent cried out, collapsing to the floor immediately.

"Other agents will be here any moment." Dum Dum cried, firing a single, silent shot that landed between the agent's eyes, "We're almost there! Go ahead, I'll keep them away."

"But Dum Dum-."

"No! These corridors echo like school halls, they're bound to have heard the gunshot and guy screamin' like a girl. I doubt there'll be any more guards from this point on, the lab's just 'round the corner."

"You'll join me when you're done?"

"Count on it Captain!" Dum Dum grinned at him, eyes sparkling with exhilaration.

"Take this!" He pulled his pistol out of the holster on his leg, throwing it to Dum Dum who caught it with ease, "It'll be more help to you than me."

"What 'bout you?" Dum Dum asked.

"I got this." Steve lifted the shield a little, gesturing to it with his eyes, "Make sure you stay alive, alright Dum Dum?"

"Roger that! Now go rip those Hydra bastards a new one, Cap!"

"It would be my personal pleasure." Steve promised, saluting Dum Dum before hurrying off. His legs carried him as fast as they could, boots drumming against the cement floor. He was only a few meters away when he heard Dum Dum hurl profanities at what Steve could only assume were Hydra agents. Moments later, the passageway was filled with gunshots and groaning agents. Steve shook his head, smiling while he sprinted along the corridor, keeping his eyes on the directions on the wall. The word for the science facility was painted in red, a red line drawn on the wall telling him where to go. Any agent that was unlucky enough to run into Steve was struck down immediately, left an unconscious or dead body in his wake. He didn't have time to waste on fighting agents! He had to find the lab, he had to destroy the files on the Winter Soldier!

Steve skidded around the corner, using his shield to protect his shoulder when he stumbled to the side, slamming into the wall. He regained his footing quickly, pressing forward, disregarding his aching muscles and following the red line until it turned into an arrow and he sped up, sprinting up to the door marked with a red doorframe. He came to an abrupt halt, his boots giving him so much traction that he almost tripped and fell. He looked around the corridor to make sure that no-one had followed him before allowing himself a moment to compose himself. His breaths were heavy and somewhere in the back of his mind, old habits made him afraid of getting an asthma attack like he used to.

Ever since he'd entered the Hydra base through its large metal doors, Steve had managed to disregard the fact that Bucky had walked these halls, that his screams had echoed off the cement walls he was surrounded with. He had had to look after his team, make sure that they were safe- it had been a welcome distraction. He hadn't expected to be on his own when he arrived at the lab yet there he was, alone with his worst nightmares, all hiding in a single room. The science facility was probably where the worst of it had happened. Steve didn't know what was waiting for him on the other side of the metal door but he knew that he wasn't allowed to let it break him- he wasn't going to let his team down again! He wasn't going to let Bucky down again!

"For Bucky." He told himself, taking one last breath before opening the door. He held up his shield, covering his body as best as he could while he edged into the lab slowly. There was so much new information that Steve wanted to take in, so many things to see but he forced himself to slow down, telling himself to look for possible threats first. Once he was in, he closed the door behind him without turning his back on the room. While most of the room was an open book to him, the entire right side of the room was curtained off, leaving room for someone to hide behind. He stood still for a moment, listening. A machine in the far corner of the room was buzzing and Steve could hear a tap dripping somewhere behind the curtain. He let out another slow breath, getting his muscles to relax. If they were too tense, he wouldn't be able to spring into action quickly enough if the need be. He was no super soldier like Bucky.

The lab had the same cement walls as the corridors and white tiles with dirty grooves between each of them. Most of the lab consisted of graphs pinned to the corkboards hung on the walls and endless drawers probably filled with information on test subjects. There was a silver table in the middle of the room with a drain in the one end. It looked like the tables belonging to veterinary practices with the difference that this table had leather cuffs for wrists, neck and ankles. Steve scanned the room methodically one last time before allowing himself to move, edging towards the table. On closer inspection, it had a dent there where the head would be. He walked around to the left side of the table, spotting a second cuff, made of metal, folded back, out of sight underneath the table until it was needed. He bent down, checking on the right side also but the metal cuff was only on the left side. "For Bucky's metal arm." Steve breathed out shakily. He was fighting with a constant increase of nausea that was going to make him throw up if this got any worse. His mind was supplying vivid, horrifying images of Bucky strapped to the table, slamming his head into the table so hard that it left the dent that was there like an echo of a horror story. He readjusted his shield on his arm, lifting it up to cover his torso before walking over to the white curtain. He pulled at it until there was a gap small enough for him to peek through. His eyes swept the new space vaguely, looking for movement. When there was none, he pulled the curtain out of the way completely to get a full view of the room behind it. There were drains all over the floor and a shower head was attached to a hook on the wall in the far right corner of the room. Droplets of water were dripping from the showerhead but the floor was mostly dry. In the corner, opposite to the showerhead, Steve found a bed that looked exactly like a hospital bed. It was covered in a plastic sheet, surrounded by numerous machines one would find in the ICU or in the room of… Steve's chest tightened… in the room of coma patients. This was where they had kept Bucky in his comas. Right here, in this room that looked more like a storage room in a butchery. It was cold, smelt mouldy and rancid. No wonder there was a thick plastic curtain to separate this side of the room from the rest of the lab.

Again, his mind brought forth those images and he cringed, eyes beginning to burn with the need to cry. This was where they had done all the operations on him, where he had been put into comas, hosed down afterwards. This was where they had changed him into the Winter Soldier. Steve looked around the tiled room for the chair Bucky had told him about but he found none. The machine used for the wiping must be in a different room. He walked over to the bed numbly, brushing his hand across the thin pillow. He was tempted to bend down to see if it smelt like Bucky but he knew that it would break him if it did. He wondered how many countless hours Bucky had spent lying on that very bed in a coma, waiting to be woken up into another nightmare again. The entire room sent shivers down his spine and he wrapped his arms around his body protectively, backing away from the bed slowly.

He wondered, for a gruelling moment, what these walls would tell him if they could speak. He had heard stories of people who had visited the sights of old death and concentration camps from the Nazi era. They had said that one could sense it, sense the death, the torture and the agony. It weighed down the air like a foul stench, the walls, the buildings looking haunted and old like gravestones in a cemetery.

Steve could sense it.

Steve could sense the anguish, the agony, the pain and the hopelessness sticking to the bed, the operating table, the walls. He breathed it in like a poison that weighed down on his body, made him feel lethargic. Only cruel, sick people could bare to stay in a place like this for a long time. Whoever this lab belonged to, he obviously revelled in the agony he had caused, seeing it as an achievement more than an unspeakable crime.

Steve shut his eyes as tightly as he could, forcing away his tears, his thoughts. He was here on a job, he was here to make sure that Bucky would never have to come back to _this_ again.

Anger welled up in Steve like adrenaline, coursing through his veins, giving his tired body new strength. The anger was accompanied by a sense of being absolutely at a loss as to how people could become this twisted. He knew he had to stop whoever this lab belonged to. Someone like this, someone so fundamentally deranged, had to be stopped. He tore his eyes away from the operating table, away from the shower and the bed on which Bucky had undoubtedly lain countless times, looking over at the many set of drawers instead. They lined the entire wall to the left of the door. He didn't quite want to know about the horrific things that could be found in those files. He had to look through them though. He had to find the ones on Bucky and the Winter Soldier. There was a desk to the right of the drawers, opposite to the door. Steve saw a few drawers underneath the desk as well, wondering if they could hold anything valuable also. He ran his right hand along the smooth edge of the shield, contemplating for a moment before coming to the conclusion to look through the larger drawers first. In the back of his mind, he was wondering how Dum Dum was doing. He couldn't hear any of the gunshots anymore; the metal door was probably a lot thicker than Steve had initially thought.

He came to a stop in front of the drawer closest to the desk and farthest away from the door. Hesitantly, he pulled the shield off of his arm, putting it down on top of the drawer face-up. The drawer squeaked a little when he opened it and he caught himself looking around one last time. He felt like he was being watched but he chose to blame that feeling on paranoia. Hundreds of case files were sorted alphabetically, neatly labelled in cursive handwriting. Each file had a different topic or name on it and as his fingers danced across the top of the files, flipping the tags, he couldn't help but wonder who the people behind the names were. Apparently Hydra had been attempting to create the Winter Soldier since the second World War. Steve didn't even want to begin to imagine how many people had died in the process before they found Bucky. The blood in his veins felt like it dropped in temperature when his eyes found the tag with the name _Barnes_ written on it. He held his breath for a moment, his trembling fingers closing around the edge of the file. He was just about to pull out the file when a cold, round object was pushed against the back of his head. His body went still and numb, his heart jumped in his chest and his eyes widened in shock.

No…

"You know. It's rude to look through someone else's things." The voice carried a heavy accent, unmistakably German. Steve clenched his jaw, swallowing his panic before it could a grip on him. "Close the drawer."

"Got something in here you don't want someone to see?" Steve asked the man quietly, scowling when he heard the man snicker.

"You have a gun pointing at your head. Do you really think you are in any position to spite me?" The man was asked, pushing the barrel against Steve's head a little harder as a reminder. Steve took a deep breath, letting it out through pursed lips. His hands moved slowly, releasing the file with Bucky's name on it and closing the drawer.  
"Before you try anything _brave_ , I hope you are aware of the fact that I am going to shoot you if you try anything." Steve's mouth opened but he closed it again, biting down on his bottom lip to stop himself from saying anything that could get him shot. Instead, he lifted his arms slowly in surrender, relaxing a little when the pressure of the barrel against his head lessened slightly. "Turn around." The man instructed Steve and he did as he was told, turning around slowly to face the man, until his back was pressed against the drawer he had been searching through. The man he found standing in front of him was ugly and short with glasses. His head was strangely shaped and looked too large for his small body. He was wearing black pants with a white lab coat pulled up to his elbows. While Steve had been turning around, the man had taken a few steps back, smart enough to stay out of Steve's reach. Steve was acutely aware of his shield that was now lying directly behind him. He clenched his jaw.  
Where had the man come from? His eyes darted around the lab, looking at every bit of space, every corner, ever table, until his eyes came to rest on the cupboard to the right of the desk. It was too small for a normal man but this tiny scientist could probably fit into that small wooden cupboard if he tried hard enough. He must have heard Steve coming and must have hidden there. Steve wanted to kick himself. It was the oldest bloody trick in the book! How could he have forgotten to check the cupboard? Maybe because only a child could have fit into that cupboard? Because he'd rather miss a child being there than finding it and having to put it out of commission? Was that it? Or had he been too distracted by the fact that this had been Bucky's hell for almost five years? Steve had to put that question on hold when the man spoke up in his annoying voice.

"Now." The man pursed his ugly, purple lips, "What are you doing in my lab?"

"Well take a wild guess. What did it look like I was doing?" Steve retorted unthinkingly and the man smirked at him, seemingly amused by Steve's audacious behaviour.

"If we don't find our Asset again, I am quite certain that you would make a fine specimen. I'll be sure to recommend you for the Winter Soldier Project." The man smiled sadistically, "It would help if you gave me a name. That way we don't have to kill your loved ones to find you."

"Fuck you." Steve snapped, itching to close the distance between him and the man, itching to make him stop talking.

"What a pity." The man sighed, "It would have made things a lot easier if you had cooperated. This way I'm going to have to kill you. You see, I can't let you go back to your friends at Shield and tell them all about what you've seen here." The man paused, arching an eyebrow, "You _do_ work for Shield, don't you?"

"Who's asking?" Steve asked him shortly, wishing he could punch the smug look right off of the man's face.

"Well, seeing as I am about to kill you anyway, I might as well introduce myself. It is only fair to tell you the name of the man that is about to kill you."

"Don't talk to me about fair." Steve growled, getting little to no reaction out of the scientist who continued to smirk.

"My name is Doctor Armin Zola."

Steve's blood went cold in his veins and his eyes widened involuntarily.

" _The first thing I remember is waking up in a surgery room surrounded by men wearing lab coats. One of them, I think his name was Zola, he told me something… I don't remember what though. Something about the procedure having started already."_

"I see you must have heard of me already?" Zola seemed pleased. Of course Steve had heard of him before. This was the man who… he was the one who… _Bucky_ …

Tears of fury stung at Steve's eyes and he began shaking with rage, wishing he could move, wishing he could kill this man so that he would _never_ get his filthy hands on another human being again especially not Bucky Barnes!

"I'm going to stop you." Steve's voice shook, coming out even deeper than it usually was. Zola tilted his head to the side curiously, arching his eyebrow spitefully. "And why is that?"

"You hurt him." Steve growled, "You hurt Bucky and I swear to God I'm going to make you regret that!"

"Ah." Zola's eyes lit up with realization, "Are you Steve by any chance?" Zola's smile twisted into a sadistic grin when Steve's eyes widened even more and his mouth fell open. Steve's throat was bone dry now, his heart hammering in his chest, his lungs trembling with every breath.

"How do you know my name?" Steve asked him hoarsely, feeling like someone had wrapped their hand around his throat.

"Even during his last wipe before the mission during which we lost him, he still screamed your name." Zola started cruelly, a dark look clouding his features, when he saw pain flash across Steve's face, "It was like all he could think about was you. At first his screams sounded like protests. The way he screamed your name was like he was trying to tell us that he still knew you, still remembered."

"Stop." Steve growled through gritted teeth, balling his hands into angry fists.

"But then we'd put his brain back in the blender and simply wipe him again and again until it changed. Then he screamed your name like a plea, like an echo. It was how we knew he was losing himself. It was quite fascinating actually- regardless of how many times we wiped him and regardless of how many people he assassinated, he still remembered your name. We even tried to make him kill people in the most gruesome ways imaginable to kill off that part of him. He did everything we told him to, right up to the tiniest little detail of each assassination. Still… he kept screaming your name or whispering it during operations. I suppose telling him you were dead might have done the trick. Or we could have found you and ordered him to kill you." Steve's face contorted and he bowed his head, gritting his teeth together so hard that it hurt."He would have done it, you know?" Zola sang, "He would have killed you."

"No." Steve shook his head fervently, "Bucky wouldn't have killed me. He'd never do that."

"Would _Bucky_ strangle a mother?! Would Bucky hurt and kill children?" Zola was grinning again, maniacally, his head tilting back in amusement when he saw how nauseous Steve felt. Steve's legs were shaking and his knees were moments away from giving out. He locked his knees, tilting off to one side to lock his hip also. He _refused_ to kneel in front of this man. He was going to stay standing even if it killed him to do, even if Zola shot him in the bloody legs! "He did all of it! We told him to and he did it without hesitation! He didn't even flinch!"  
Bile rose up in Steve's throat and he swallowed it again, concentrating on the way his stomach acid burnt his throat. He wasn't allowed to show this man how much this was affecting him. Zola was probably hoping that this would ruin Steve's image of Bucky, convince him that Bucky was the monster that Zola tried to turn him into. It wasn't working though. Not with Steve. He knew who Bucky was and nothing on this Earth could change that. Even now, even after Bucky had been hurt so badly, Steve still _knew_ him. All Zola's words did, was make Steve angrier and angrier and more determined to finish his mission.

"You don't know him." Steve decided, shaking off his mortification as best as he could and stood up straighter again, looking Zola in the eye, smirking lightly just to be spiteful.

"Oh! And you do? After the last four years? You still think you know him?!" Zola retorted, annoyed that his psychological torture wasn't having the desired effect.

"You didn't manage to erase him, you know." Steve said, "He was still in there the entire time."

"If he hadn't escaped, the Sergeant would have eventually dwindled away. The Soldier would have taken over! The Winter Soldier Project was a full success with Sergeant Barnes."

"Then where is your precious Asset now?" Steve spat back, "Why isn't he here to protect you? Why didn't he come running back first chance he got? Isn't that what you _conditioned_ him to do?!" Zola gritted his teeth, taking a step towards Steve, shaking his gun a little as a reminder to Steve that he was still being held at gunpoint. "You see that's why I say that you don't know him." Steve pressed on, smothering his fear almost desperately, "Because no matter what you do, no matter how many times you wipe him; no matter how much pain you inflict on him- you're never going to break him. Bucky is far too strong for that! You don't know Bucky. I know that because you underestimated him."Zola shrunk back a little, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open helplessly, "Your Soldier?" Steve paused, "He's gone! He's never going to receive another order from you or any of your Hydra buddies again! Do you know why? Because your experiment failed and because I'm going to destroy this entire lab if I have to in order to stop you!" Zola's face contorted into a scowl now and he took another step closer to Steve angrily.

"Who do you think you are?!" Zola screamed at him.

"No-one." Steve smirked, "Just a kid from Brooklyn."  
As soon as Steve had said those words, a frustrated, strangled scream broke out of Armin Zola and he lifted the gun a little to point it directly at Steve's head again. Steve ducked down, forcing Zola to re-aim, giving Steve a moment to reach behind him. He had to get his shield. He had to protect himself. He had to get back to Bucky.

He promised. He promised. He promised!

His hand was on his shield. He pulled it towards him.

"Sergeant Barnes will vanish once I show him your corpse!"

He pulled the trigger…

The silver shield fell, the vibranium whistling eerily as it collided with the floor.

* * *

There you go! I hope you liked it! Not a lot of talking happening in this chapter in between so I hope the layout was okay.

Let me know what you guys think!


	19. Chapter 19

Hey everyone!  
Yes the end of chapter 18 was a bummer. My beta-reader yelled at me for it xD But here you have chapter 19! I really hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 19**

He pulled the trigger…

The silver shield fell, the vibranium whistling eerily as it collided with the floor.

He fell over, his knees hitting the ground hard and painfully. His shield lay at his side. His arms spread out to catch his fall but his left arm gave way under a strong jolt of pain that flew through his body. His ears were ringing and his head was spinning right out of control. He was disorientated and in pain. Somewhere between his hazy thoughts and the strange noises around him, he tried to locate the source of the pain. He couldn't.  
He had been shot. Zola was still alive. He had a gun. Steve had to get up. He had to defend himself. He had to get back to Bucky!  
He formed his thoughts slowly, carefully, fighting against the headache forming behind his temples. His right hand twitched, pushing against the tiles to lift his upper body up again. His left arm hung uselessly, covered in blood and numb. He closed his eyes for a moment when the light from above stung, ramming a dagger of pain into his head. He groaned, heaving his heavy body up far enough to lean his back against the drawer and spread his aching legs out in front of him. Once he'd done that, he dared to open his eyes again slowly. Movement caught his eye immediately, even before his eyes had managed to focus properly. A black figure was moving away from him and towards the side of the room. The figure wasn't completely black though- there was something light attached to the dark body, something that reflected the light. Steve closed his eyes again, lifting his right hand to push into his eyes with the palm of his hands.

"You didn't just fucking do that. Tell me you didn't!"

Steve's eyes flew open and his jaw dropped when a silent gasp left his lips. Suddenly his sight became crystal clear, his eyes focusing on the dark figure holding Zola against the cupboard he had been hiding in when Steve had initially entered the lab. The light thing, the object reflecting the light was made out of metal and had a red star painted on it. The dark figure had brown hair, long, hiding his face from view completely.

"Bucky." Steve breathed out hoarsely, feeling tears of relief and sadness well up in his eyes, making them burn.  
He let his head fall back against the set of drawers, keeping his eyes on Bucky's metal hand that was holding onto Zola's collar.

"Sergeant Barnes." Zola grinned, "It's nice to see you again." Bucky's grip on the man tightened and he pushed him against the cupboard so hard that the wood creaked.

"You really shouldn't have done that Zola…" Bucky growled fiercely. Steve had never heard Bucky talk the way he was. His voice was deep and rough in a way that made Steve want to shiver. He didn't sound like Bucky. From the hard line of Bucky's back and shoulders, Steve knew that Bucky was itching for a fight and he was angry- more than that, he was livid. He could pretty much picture how angry Bucky looked, picture the ferocity in his best friend's eyes and the scowl on his handsome face. Bucky was dressed in a black long-sleeve of which he had ripped off the left sleeve. He wasn't wearing any armour whatsoever. He wasn't armed with a gun or a knife. It was just Bucky; without any weapons except his arm.

"What shouldn't I have done?" Zola asked Bucky in mock-innocence that had Bucky's skin crawling with rage. Bucky pulled Zola away from the cupboard before slamming him against it so hard that the doors gave way with a loud crack and the tiny scientist disappeared into the cupboard's inside. Then, Bucky pulled him out again, lifting him into the air effortlessly and slamming him down on the operating table with so much force that the metal gave way, forming extensive dents in the surface of the table. Zola squirmed, letting out strangled noises that resembled screams. Bucky's metal hand had shifted from Zola's collar to his neck, holding him in place with crushing force while he fastened the shackles that had once held him in place instead.

"You tried to kill him." Bucky growled, "You tried to kill Steve!"

"I _did_ offer to keep him alive." Zola grinned up at Bucky's rage-contorted face, "I was going to enrol him into the Winter Solder Pr-." Zola's sentence was cut short when Bucky's right fist came down on his head, slamming it into the operating table and deepening the dent there.

"You'd have to tear me limb from limb before trying that though because if there's even a tiny bit of life left in my body, I will kill every single person on this planet who tries to do that to Steve." Bucky whispered in Zola's ear. He was shaking with rage but despite his anger, he was still Bucky. Only Bucky Barnes could get this upset about someone trying to hurt Steve.

The haze in Steve's mind was clearing slowly as the shock subsided, replaced with the urgent need to keep an eye on Bucky. He wanted to be next to Bucky. He wanted to touch his hand to Bucky's back and tell him that it was okay, that he was safe, that Bucky didn't have to be angry. His body was yet to obey to him though, so he resorted to trying to bring Bucky to him instead.

"Buck." Steve tried to call out in a strained, hoarse voice. Bucky's frame relaxed immediately and he let go of Zola's throat. His shoulders dropped and his legs turned him around to face Steve.

"Stevie." Bucky breathed out almost like a sigh of relief. His face was soft, his eyes round and warm, every trace of anger having dissipated from his features. He was next to Steve in seconds, crouching down in the blood smeared on the floor, his hands framing Steve's pale face. "Damn it I was so angry. Should'a come to you first Stevie."

"Hey there Buck." Steve mumbled, waving off Bucky's apologetic look with a smile.

"You're hurt. Where does it hurt?" Bucky's eyes began scanning Steve near to anxiously, his eyebrows furrowing when he failed to find the wound.

"My arm." Steve mumbled, nodding his head towards his left arm. Bucky's attention was on the arm immediately, thumbing at the black material until his fingers turned red. He took a hold of the blood-soaked sleeve carefully, eyes occasionally flicking to Steve's face to check for any signs of pain while he continued. Steve concentrated on Bucky's face while the latter started tearing the sleeve to expose the wound. A wave of nostalgia washed through Steve unexpectedly, conjuring up a wistful smile and distracting Steve sufficiently. This was just like the olden days when _damn it Stevie! Do you gotta pick a fight all the damn time? This ain't just a bruise you punk! The guy had a knife! What the hell were you thinking?!_

"It's a graze shot." Bucky sagged visibly, a relieved smile flashing across his face. Steve blinked a few times, stunned by the contrast between the Bucky from his memories and the Bucky crouching in front of him in that moment. Still, he couldn't help what came out of his mouth next.

"Now wouldn't be a good time to say that I had 'em on the ropes, right?" What Steve said managed to coax a husky laugh from Bucky that made his heart skip a beat. "It's never a good time for you to say that punk. I'm still waiting for the day for that to actually be true for once."

"You remember?" Steve asked quietly.

"Stevie." Bucky's eyes flicked up to him to give him a very sarcastic look, "How the hell could I forget all those times I had to patch you up after you went and played the hero again?"

What were the chances that Bucky would come? Steve wondered. What were the chances that he would somehow know that Steve would need him? Steve didn't even know how Bucky had managed to get to Europe, never mind the fact that he'd swept in at the last minute to save Steve's life. He decided that later would be a better time to wonder about all the details. What mattered now was that Bucky was there and that they were both safe. Steve watched Bucky tear off his own sleeve, leaving both of his arms bare now. He used his torn off sleeve as a pressure bandage for Steve's arm.

Steve clenched his jaw when Bucky tied the cloth tightly, trying not to show how much it _hurt_. He didn't want Bucky to worry more than he inadvertently would after this mission.

"How does that feel?" Bucky asked Steve, soft eyes scanning Steve's face caringly. Steve smiled.

"It's-."

"Rusted." Before Steve could even realize that Zola had just started reciting the trigger words, Bucky was on his feet. In a blink of an eye, Bucky was standing in front of Zola, hands finding the edge of the operating table. "Seventeen!" Zola yelled, his accent making his Russian almost impossible to understand. The Soldier understood though and that was more than enough.

"No." Bucky mumbled, bowing his head and cringing when the next word was spoken. Another word later and Bucky began screaming, pulling at the table with all his might. His shoulders flexed and his kneed bent. The tiles around the table cracked, the bolts holding the table on the floor coming undone. Zola was already at homecoming and Steve was seconds away from getting up, regardless of how fatigued he was, and using his shield to silence Zola when Bucky's knees bent a little more and he gritted his teeth, letting out a strangled scream while giving another good pull. With a metallic groan, the table was ripped from the floor and whirled through the air with Zola still strapped to it. Steve heard Zola scream right before the table collided with the wall in Bucky's coma-room with so much force that the sound of the impact rung in Steve's ears painfully. The table clattered to the floor face down, the only traces of Zola being the blood on the wall.

He was dead.

All was silent.

Steve got to his feet, clutching onto the set of drawers behind him for stability. His body ached all over, the pulsing pain from his arm having a numbing effect on almost every muscle he owned. Still, he had to get to Bucky and that was more important than any amount of pain he was in. When he started to move, he stumbled and swayed at first but managing to stagger over to Bucky nonetheless. Bucky was breathing heavily, hands clenched into tight fists. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky's torso from behind, resting his head on Bucky's shoulder gently and aligning his arms with Bucky's stomach. Bucky held his breath for a moment before letting it out again in a heavy sigh. His back softened, aligning with Steve's upper body, pushing against Steve's chest.  
"You with me?" Steve asked Bucky quietly, his arms tightening around Bucky instinctively.

"Always." Bucky promised him, leaning back as much as Steve let him, "Are you okay Steve? I blanked out there for a moment."

"I'm fine." Steve promised, "You?"

"M'fine." Bucky muttered, tilting his head back to lean it against the side of Steve's, "Zola?"

"I'm pretty sure he's dead."

"Good. It's over then." They stayed like that for a moment before the pain in Steve's arm became too much and he had to, regretfully, let go of Bucky. As soon as Bucky had turned to look at Steve, Steve felt himself shift a little. Now that the drama was over the situation was starting to sink in. Bucky was back in a Hydra facility, facing the very man that had caused Bucky immeasurable amounts of pain. Hadn't Steve come all this way to prevent a situation like this from arising? Had he failed his mission then? Sure, he would still be able to destroy the files but what about Bucky?

"I didn't want you to have to come here again." Steve admitted, openly showing how angry he was at himself for this whole situation.

"Was my choice." Bucky smiled lightly. Steve lifted his eyes from the floor to look at Bucky again. It then occurred to Steve that Bucky was at the heart of where his nightmares came from and that he hadn't broken down, in fact- he was even smiling at Steve. Steve had told Zola that Bucky was strong, stronger than most people would dare to imagine. So why hadn't Steve given Bucky more credit? Sure, he was still a little instable but Bucky was never fragile. Looking at Bucky right then, he didn't look like he was about to break down. He didn't look like he had just killed someone or that he had almost been triggered again a moment ago. He looked strangely at ease. His shoulders were slumped, his lips resting in a pleasant curve. His eyes were alert- not the kind of hyper-vigilant alert, but curious kind of alert. They were watching Steve, waiting for him to sort out his thoughts. Bucky had always been able to see when Steve was lost in thought and he had always made a point to wait for Steve to finish off his train of thought before asking about it.

"You're here." Steve concluded, a puzzled frown still on his face, "But you're still… _you_."

"I needed an anchor is all." Bucky's smile became a little shy now, "And seeing as you're always buggin' me, I guess you got the job." Steve's face softened and he laughed breathily, bowing his head to hide his blush. Steve doubted that Bucky would ever know exactly how much that meant to him.

"I thought I was never gonna see you again." Steve muttered a little breathlessly, "I was so sure that Zola was going to kill me."

"It was close too." Bucky agreed, nodding, "I ain't ever gonna let you out of my sight again Stevie. Every time you go on these things you act like a complete idiot." It seemed to Steve as though Bucky had said that thoughtlessly but once the words had left his mouth, he was frowning, anger shimmering in his eyes, just brightly enough for Steve to see. "What are you talking about-."

"If you were looking for my file- I got two." Bucky interrupted Steve, "One is under Barnes and one is under Winter Soldier Project."

"Bucky?" Steve frowned, taking a step closer to Bucky almost urgently.

There was something Bucky wasn't telling him, something he was actively avoiding talking about. "I'm just a little shaken up is all. Everything's alright Stevie." Bucky lied and Steve bowed his head. Bucky was clearly avoiding the subject but that was Steve to do? If Bucky didn't want to talk about something, there was nothing Steve could do to force him. He had to respect Bucky's decision. "  
Actually," Bucky spoke up again when he realized that Steve wasn't about to press the topic, "Might wanna burn both. Might wanna burn all of this. In fact… mind if I burn the whole place down?" He was grinning now, his grey-blue eyes shimmering with the same cheeky glint that Steve had missed since the day they'd found Bucky again.  
Steve studied Bucky for a moment, searching for any echoes of the anger his best friend had displayed a moment ago. It had vanished as if it had never been there. Steve let out a breathy laugh. He didn't know whether he should be thankful for Bucky's sudden shift in mood or whether it should unsettle him. Steve figured that, maybe, Zola's death put Bucky at ease. Zola was one of the only people who knew everything about Bucky. With Zola dead, a lot of information about the Winter Soldier was already gone and that without destroying those files. Still, the files were next in line and Steve still had every intention of destroying them, he just hadn't thought about the _how_ yet. A fire might not be that bad of an idea. It wasn't as though this lab was supposed to be used in the future and from a therapeutic point of view, it might be good for Bucky to burn the place.

"Burning it would probably be a good idea. That way we can make sure nothing is recovered." Steve decided, laughing when Bucky jumped into action, yanking open every drawer in sight and emptying folder after folder onto the floor. "This stuff is gonna make a real great fire Stevie, just you watch!" Steve stood still, in a state of awe while he watched Bucky move around him. There was an air of jauntiness about him while he moved around and Steve would never for the life of him have expected Bucky to display this sort of behaviour in a Hydra base of all places. It was almost like Bucky was carefully crafting a new memory of this place, using the better, happier memory as a weapon to strike down the nightmares this lab induced, memories that were threatening to wrap their cold, bony fingers around his throat to strangle him.

Sparkling grey eyes found his and it jolted Steve out of his thoughts. He was met with a small, unsure smile and slightly furrowed brows. "Sorry." Steve laughed sheepishly, "I was just lost in thought, that's all."

"S'fine. I don't mind you watchin' me Stevie. You always have." It was an off-handed comment and by the time it had sunk in with Steve, Bucky had turned his attention back to his creation. Steve felt his cheeks heat up and he turned away, pretending to inspect Zola's desk to hide his blush. He hadn't counted on Bucky ever noticing. Ever since Steve had had feelings for Bucky, this meaning since they were kids, Steve had always struggled to keep his eyes away from Bucky and keep his handsome face off of his sketchpads. Bucky must have noticed somewhere along the line but why on earth was he remembering that and not other things that, in Steve's mind, were far more important than the fact that he tended to _stare_ at his best friend?

"Do you think the curtain will burn?" Steve turned around to find Bucky standing in front of the curtain separating the coma-room from the lab, the edge of one side between his fingertips, "Feels like plastic."

"I wouldn't try." Steve stuttered out, still far too flustered by that off-handed comment of Bucky's to think of more to say.

"Probably wouldn't be such a good idea." Bucky agreed, nodding. He then walked up to Steve and pushed past him gently to get to the drawer in Zola's desk to empty that out too. Steve swallowed nervously, making space for Bucky a little too quickly. "You alright there Stevie?" Bucky wanted to put the drawer down on top of the desk to tend to Steve but the latter put his hand over Bucky's metal one, stopping him.

"Just a little dizzy. I think I'll just sit down again."

"Okay." Bucky nodded, eying Steve concernedly for a moment before carrying the drawer over to his formidable heap of paper and wood. He balanced the drawer on one arm while fishing out the lighter that had been kept there, dumping the drawer onto the pile of paper once he had the lighter secured in his hand. Steve watched Bucky intently, trying to keep his eyes from lingering on the scarring on Bucky's left shoulder for too long. It wasn't often that Bucky wore anything that exposed the scarring. The scarred tissue was both fascinating and horrifying at the same time. Steve wondered if Bucky would ever let him examine his shoulder more closely, see where Bucky ended and the machine started.

Bucky looked like he was searching the pile for something, his eyes narrowing the longer he searched. He kicked at the pile with his booted feet a few times, kicking seemingly unimportant files out of the way. Then, his eyes lit up and he shoved the lighter into the pocket of his black pants, picking up two files. He opened the one, cringing at whatever he saw there. His eyes lingered on the file for a moment before he pulled something out of said file, holding it up to look at, smiling lightly. From where Steve was sitting, he could only see that it was a small, square piece of paper.  
"I want you to have this." Bucky said, walking over to Steve and handing him the small square. It was a portrait photo of Bucky, cut to show only his shoulders and his head. He was wearing his formal military uniform, a gentle, charming smile on his face. His eyes were sparkling and the military hat he was wearing suited him extremely well.

Steve loved it.

"It was taken the day we left on the mission." Bucky explained, "It was the last photo taken of me before Hydra found me."

There was something incredibly precious in that gesture; that Bucky wanted Steve to have that photo instead of keeping it for himself.

"Thanks Bucky." Steve thanked him earnestly. He was pretty sure that he was going to put that photo into his wallet when he got back to the States, "What are those files?"

"One is my personal file and the other is the one for the Winter Soldier Project." Bucky said, walking back to the pile and pulling out the lighter again. Bucky took both files into his left hand, letting the tiny flame of the lighter lick at the edges of the papers. His eyes were focused solely on the flame that reflected in his iris and pupil, watching the files catch fire. He watched them burn, holding onto them even when the flames started coming extremely close to his hand. The light the flame gave off, orange and warm, reflected in the metal of his fingers, drawing Steve's eyes away from Bucky's calm ones. Eventually, Steve settled on watching the flame, now large and hungry, devour the files. He blinked when the files were let go and they fell onto the pile, infecting the other papers with the same destructive element. The flames, now turning into a fire, danced across all the papers, licking at the wood and eventually making their way over to Zola's corpse.

Steve got up slowly, grateful when he found that his legs were ready to cooperate again. He'd need his legs if he wanted to get out of this place. He walked over to Bucky who was watching the fire burn. He had a strange look in his eyes, the look people wore when they watched their house burn down. The flames weren't just destroying meaningless files; they were eradicating any traces of Bucky's former life as an assassin, as a pawn to Hydra.

The flames were ending one life- a life he had been forced to live, and allowing him to start a new one.

"And you're sure that'll do the trick?" Steve asked quietly, nudging Bucky's shoulder with his own gently out of habit.

"Hydra keeps all of their things written on paper to avoid anyone from tracking them over the internet."

"That must be one hell of a job." Steve muttered and Bucky nodded, "Glad Shield was never like that." He added thoughtfully.

"I'm sure Shield has a ton of encryptions on their stuff." Bucky mused. He shifted a little, looking around the room uncomfortably. Noticing this, Steve raised his hand, resting it against Bucky's back, right between his shoulder blades.

"You wanna leave?" Steve asked him gently and Bucky nodded profusely, "Then let's get out of here." Steve smiled at Bucky, thrilled to find Bucky smiling back.

* * *

There you have it! So the mission had a happy ending after all!

Thank you so so much for reading this far! I really hope you're enjoying the fanfiction up until this point.  
Please let me know what you guys think!

Also, if you have any prompts or ideas for Stucky one-shots you would like me to write, feel free to inbox me!

Til next week! :)


	20. Chapter 20

Hello dear readers! I sincerely apologise for the late update. Some family matters came up and I only finished the chapter yesterday!  
Well so here you have chapter 20!

And thank you so much for reading up until now! This fanfiction ended up becoming a lot longer than I had originally planned but I've become really attached to these two boys and I guess I wanted to explore the aspects of PTSD and Bucky's development as much as possible! Also, thank you so, so much for your wonderful reviews up until now, like I said before, they really inspire me to keep writing!

With all that having been said, enjoy chapter 20 guys!

* * *

 **Chapter 20**

" _I ain't ever gonna let you out of my sight again Stevie. Every time you go on these things you act like a complete idiot."_

Steve put his duffle bag down with a heavy sigh, enjoying the thumping noise the heavy bag made when it hit the floor. It felt good to be out of his uniform again and back in their new apartment. They hadn't lived there long enough to think of it as home but Steve knew that Bucky was there, probably in his own room with his own duffle bag and wherever Bucky was, that was home for Steve. He took a moment to take in his new room with its smooth ivory walls, wooden panelling and familiar, worn furniture. He let his smartphone slide out of his hand and onto his desk before turning to his bed with the intention to flop onto it. He stalled, socked feet shifting on the floor. His eyebrows furrowed a little when he saw that his duvet was crumpled, as if someone had lain on it. Steve always made his bed conscientiously, especially when he knew that he wasn't going to be home for a while. The only explanation Steve could think of was that Bucky had been in his room, on his bed while he had been gone. He turned in a circle slowly, studying his room for any other clues but found none. Everything had remained untouched, neatly sorted into drawers and shelves. His eyes came to rest on his bed again and his face softened immediately, an endearing smile colouring his face.

Bucky had always been very touchy-feely, very open in showing how much Steve meant to him. While Steve was certain that Bucky didn't return the romantic feelings that Steve had for him, his fond behaviour towards Steve always made it very difficult for Steve to hide his feelings for his best guy. Still, it felt extremely good to see that the torture Bucky had endured, hadn't changed Bucky's feelings for Steve. Bucky was starting to act like his old self again and Steve was almost too afraid to admit how much he'd missed the touchy-feely side of Bucky.

He pulled his left arm out of the sling the doctor had given him, cringing when he felt the wound complain due to the movement. He left the sling on his bed, carefully pulling off his brown leather jacket before unzipping his duffle bag. He began unpacking it methodically, sorting clothing back into drawers or into a heap at the door for laundry. He hummed to himself while he worked, letting his mind wander a little, let himself look into the future now, think about where they were going to go from here. Everything felt a lot lighter now. Fury had promised that Shield's main objective would now become taking Hydra apart bit by bit and knowing that Bucky was going to be kept out of it, was like winning the lottery for Steve.

He was snapped out of his content thoughts by his stomach giving off a low rumble. He laughed lightly, abandoning his bag and getting up. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't had anything to eat all day. His mind wandered to Bucky and he began worrying about how hungry Bucky may be. Bucky's metabolism burned four times faster than that of a normal human being, surely that meant he'd be starving by now? Without a moment's hesitation, Steve had gotten up, shoving his duffle bag closer to the bed before making his way out of his room. He paused at the entrance to the living room, listening out for any noises to pinpoint Bucky's location. Flake didn't come sprinting out of the nearest corner to greet Steve so he assumed that she must be in Bucky's room which was probably also where Bucky was. His eyes wandered around the living space, smiling at the pictures Bucky and Steve had put up on a shelf near the TV. Bucky didn't have any photos anymore but Steve had plenty of the two of them and each of their families. He sauntered through the living room and into the open kitchen, letting his hand slide along the smooth marble surface of the island in the middle of the kitchen. Steve could definitely get used to this and now that Hydra was out of the picture, Steve finally _allowed_ himself to think that maybe, he could actually keep all of this: the new apartment, Flake, Bucky- his new life and his new family.

He took up humming again while he searched the kitchen for ingredients that could make up an edible meal. He eventually settled on preparing spaghetti carbonara, a simple yet filling dish. He made sure to measure out an extra helping of noodles… or maybe two, for Bucky. The noodles waited patiently off to the side while Steve filled up a pot with water and set it down on the oven, turning the dial on the oven to _high_. He then plundered the fridge for the right ingredients for the carbonara, setting them all out on the working surface to the right of the oven. The sauce wouldn't take as long as the noodles so Steve decided to focus on those first. He moved to the oven again, leaning a hand on each side of the ceramic plates, looming over the pot to watch the water heat up. Again, he let his mind wander as much as it wanted to, feeling content for the first time in a long while. Of course his mind ended up lingering on Bucky and a stupid smile spread across Steve's face while he wondered about what the future would bring for Bucky.

"What are you doing?" Steve jumped, whirling around to face the source of the voice, almost tripping over his own feet in the process.

"You scared me Buck." Steve relaxed, smiling at Bucky who was standing only a few meagre feet away from Steve, leaning against the island. Bucky's eyes flicked from Steve's face to his left arm, his eyebrows furrowing before he let his eyes travel back to Steve's eyes slowly.

"Where is the sling the doctor gave you?" He asked Steve flatly. The blond shifted uncomfortably, pushing his lower back into the countertop behind him, wishing he could back away a little more. "I left it in my room." Steve replied, "Can't cook with one arm."

"I got two." Bucky retorted tightly. His shoulders were beginning to tense up and he was working his jaw slightly. Steve watched Bucky warily, noting the increasing amount of anger playing behind his stormy irises. This wasn't about the sling. Steve knew Bucky well enough to know that he was nit-picking now in an attempt to distract himself from something that was _really_ bothering him. Steve turned back to the oven, watching the bubbles rise to the top of the seething water and pop there. He would have put the noodles in soon. He let out a slow breath, composing himself before turning the stove off and facing Bucky again. Bucky's facial expression was guarded and yet Steve could see hurt and anger bubbling under the surface like molten lava seeping through small cracks in the rock, ready to scald you if you got too close. "Sorry 'bout the sling." Steve said, allowing a sheepish smile, "I thought you might be hungry so…" His voice trailed off when he noticed that his words did nothing for the tension in Bucky's body.

"When were you gonna tell me?" Bucky asked Steve coolly.

"You're going to have to be more specific Buck." Steve pointed out gently, trying not to upset Bucky even more.

"Your last bloody mission with Shield." Bucky growled, "You didn't resign. You were discharged."

Bloody Nick Fury! Damn it Steve should have known not to leave Bucky alone with his former boss!

"Were you ever gonna tell me the truth about that?! Or did ya think that lying to me was good enough?!" Steve sucked in a trembling breath.

"Bucky I-."

"No Steve." Bucky interrupted his best friend harshly, raising his voice angrily, "Don't you make up any fucking excuses ye'hear me?!"

"Could you…" Steve bowed his head, closing his eyes as tightly as he could for a moment, "You know I don't like it when you swear like that."

"And I don't like bein' lied to. Guess we both don't get what we want!" Bucky took a step closer to Steve angrily. If Steve lifted his arm now, he would be able to touch Bucky's chest.

"But do you know what`s worse than that though?" Bucky continued, "I _hate_ what you did on your last mission. Fuck if I had been there, I would'a clobbered you. I swear, you ending up in hospital 'cause of me is better than you ending up dead!"

Steve wanted to snap right back but the raw emotion in Bucky's voice made Steve's insides tremble, made him hesitate. If he hadn't already felt extremely guilty for what he had done on his last mission with Shield, he definitely did now. Before finding Bucky in the interrogation room, Steve had often wondered what Bucky would have said if he were alive, if he had been there to watch Steve fall apart before almost making one of the biggest mistakes of his life. Now Steve had his answer and although it put him at ease to finally know, it hurt a thousand times worse than he had expected. The way Bucky was standing there, right in front of him, the way he was holding his body, the way he was _looking_ at him- all of it was almost impossible to bear.

"I finished my mission Buck." Steve insisted a little defensively, mirroring the frown on Bucky's face and squaring his broad shoulders.

"Surprised you did!" Bucky exclaimed, anger lacing every letter, every vowel, "Considering you almost got yourself killed yesterday."

"I was doing it to protect you Bucky!" Steve stressed, feeling like he was drowning in Bucky's anger, helpless, defenceless and feeling that he deserved every last ounce of Bucky's anger. "I'm not worth all that Steve!" Bucky yelled, "I never wanted you to get hurt because of me but you just keep…" He paused, clenching his jaw so hard that Steve could hear his teeth grind together, "You keep doing it… over and over again and I can't stop you."

"That's because it was my _choice_." Steve lowered his voice, a counterweight to Bucky's anger.

"You almost died!" Bucky yelled, throwing his arms in the air. His eyes were darting and it put Steve on alert, made him nervous.

Bucky had never been this angry at Steve before and Steve, if he was honest with himself, had no idea how to deal with it. He wasn't the type of person who would just roll over and show his belly at the first sign of confrontation. Normally if someone pushed, Steve would push right back. Thing is, Steve didn't want to push back with Bucky. He wanted to pull. He wanted to pull Bucky in and hold him close, feel the heat Bucky's anger put in his cheeks, stroke his hand along Bucky's back until his muscles relaxed. He wanted to promise Bucky that he was fine now, that _they_ were fine now. He wanted to apologize over and over again until Bucky stopped looking at him like that, until Bucky wasn't angry at him anymore because _Stevie I'm gonna come back! I swear I will. What's the point of dying if it means I can't look after ya anymore? You don't die for your friends, you live for them. I'll be back Stevie. Open the door. Please. Just open the door. I'm sorry that I gotta go. I'm sorry Stevie. I'm so sorry._

Steve blinked, bowing his head when he felt his eyes begin to burn. After giving himself a much needed moment to compose himself, he lifted his eyes slowly until he could see Bucky's angry face again, cringing at the sight. "Yeah." Steve conceded, "I know I almost died."

"Then why the hell did you do it?!" There was a sense of urgency to Bucky now, like understanding would give him the possibility to stop Steve from being so reckless in future. It was like he wanted to understand, _desperately_ so, so that he could comprehend what could drive Steve to almost thoughtlessly throw his life away.

"Because I'd rather die trying to save you than lose you again." Steve explained calmly, eyes locking in with Bucky's with a stubbornness that could only belong to Steve Rogers, "The first time almost killed me, Fury told you all about that, and the second time? What do you think that would do to me?"

"But you're not allowed to leave me!" Bucky yelled, his voice cracking at the end of the sentence. His metal arm lifted, clutching onto Steve's right arm with bruising force, "You're the only thing keeping me alive Steve! Stop trying to save me! Don't you see that you already have?!"

The silence that followed was a stifling contrast to Bucky's rough, loud voice. Bucky blinked, looking confused and totally beside himself. His breathing sounded more like panting, like he'd just run a marathon. Steve watched the anger melt from Bucky's features, replaced by a vulnerability of sorts that made Steve's heart ache.

"I ain't going anywhere Buck. Not anymore." Steve promised him hoarsely, completely overwhelmed by the strength of Bucky's emotions, "I'm so sorry for upsetting you."

"Damn it." Bucky sighed, closing the distance between them and pushing against Steve, "I'm so sorry Stevie." Bucky mumbled into Steve's shoulder, arms moving to wrap around Steve's waist and pull him even closer. Steve flushed, having to take a deep breath before his vocal chords agreed to cooperate again. "What're you apologizing for Buck?"

"I yelled at ya." He mumbled, burying his face impossibly deeper in the crook of Steve's warm neck, "I'm so sorry for yelling at ya Steve. Don't know what came over me."

"It's okay." Steve smiled, returning the embrace willingly, enjoying how close he was to Bucky. He ran two fingers along the line of Bucky's spine gently, repeating the motion until Bucky's muscles began going slack. Bucky groaned, leaning against Steve so much that the countertop behind Steve started digging into his lower back painfully. Still, Steve couldn't find it in him to tell Bucky to move.

"He looked so much like you." Steve conceded.

"What're ya talking about Steve?" Bucky asked, brushing his right thumb over the strip of skin between Steve's pants and his t-shirt that had slipped up slightly. It made Steve want to shiver.

"My last mission with Shield. It was a routine mission. We were supposed to storm a warehouse close to Orlando, flush out the drug dealers, arrest their boss. Everything went well until I was standing across from the man I was supposed to arrest. He looked so much like you." Steve had to take a moment to breathe. It wasn't something he liked talking about, especially not to Bucky. "I just froze up I guess. Every time I looked him in the eyes, I kept seeing you; the way I saw you in all my nightmares- falling. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. It's like everything came down on me in that moment. It was too much! You were gone and…" Steve broke off when his voice began to shake, forcing back the tears that wanted to fall.

"Stevie!" Bucky sounded faintly reproachful but his voice was soft and caring nonetheless, "Why didn't you tell me this months ago?"

"I'm not particularly proud of what I did that day Buck. I didn't just put my own life in danger, but that of my entire team. If I had arrested him right then and there without hesitating, he wouldn't have been able to alert his entire gang."

"You were hurting real bad, weren't you?" Bucky asked him, his metal arm moving to stretch across Steve's back protectively.

"It felt like I was dying Buck." Steve admitted hoarsely, "I just couldn't forget you, couldn't stop thinking about you. I kept wondering if you were angry at me for what I said to you before you left, if that was the last thing you thought of before you died."

"I wasn't angry." Bucky assured Steve firmly, "I could never stay mad at your mug." That made Steve chuckle.

"I'm sorry for being so reckless Buck."

"S'fine. I'm here now… to bail you out of all the crap you do. Just like old times."

Steve sighed, leaning his head on Bucky's shoulder, taking in Bucky's smell, enjoying how it made him feel right at home. They were silent for a moment, just standing there, in each other's arms, enjoying the embrace. It was Steve who broke the content silence first.

"And for the record," Steve smiled against the skin at the base of Bucky's neck, "You are worth it."

"Gonna make me blush Stevie." Bucky laughed, nuzzling Steve unthinkingly before lifting his head curiously, remembering that Steve had been busy in the kitchen before their little chat. "What were ya making?" He added, eyes lingering on the noodles before scrutinizing the ingredients Steve had set out. With a gentle push, Steve had Bucky letting go of him and he immediately missed Bucky's warmth on his skin. "Spaghetti carbonara." Steve laughed when Bucky's eyes lit up.

"Damn well read my mind Stevie!" Bucky grinned, "I've been starving for hours now."

"Figured." Steve grinned back, "Which is why I wanted to make some." He reached for the dial on the stove but Bucky put his metal hand out, taking a hold of Steve's right wrist gently. "C'mon Buck, really?" Steve wined but quickly realized that this argument wasn't going to be one that he would win.

"You go get that sling back on your arm and I'll finish up here." Bucky instructed sternly, shaking his head when Steve rolled his eyes, "Don't make me carry you Stevie. Don't think for a second I can't still pick you up now that you're all big."

"Yeah, yeah I got it." Steve muttered, shooting Bucky a glare that quickly morphed into a silly smile when Bucky smirked at him.

"Punk." Bucky muttered endearingly as he watched Steve walk back to his room. Once Steve was out of sight, he turned to the stove and switched it on. A gentle smile was pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Gets shot in the arm and still tries to cook some food for us." He chuckled, shaking his head before turning his attention to cooking dinner, trying not to focus too much on the butterflies in his stomach.

"Stevie hasn't changed a damn bit."

* * *

There you go guys! I really hope you enjoyed it! Please please let me know what you guys think! Reviews are very much welcome!

See you next week!


	21. Chapter 21

Hey guys!

So here you have Chapter 21! This is more of a filler-chapter, tying up loose ends and stuff but I hope you still enjoy it!

Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chater! It really means a lot to me!

* * *

 **Chapter 21**

Steve breathed in, letting the air out again through pursed lips. He watched the woman behind the counter talk to a witness that had been called in for questioning, a young man with long black hair. He felt a lot like that witness. Nervous. Unsure as to what was going to happen next. His legs were bobbing up and down and he was kneading his hands, disregarding the feint drumming of pain in his left arm every time he tensed the muscle affected by the shot wound. The air smelt of freshly ground coffee, a smell that was characteristic for the police station. It felt strange to be back at the station again after everything that had happened. Rhodey had called him that morning, insisting that Steve come over as soon as possible. He had sounded strange on the phone, reserved and guarded, which was one of the reasons Steve was so nervous. Had they learnt something new about Hydra? Wouldn't he be talking to Fury then instead of Rhodey? He bowed his head, forcing those thoughts away. If he kept worrying like that, he'd drive himself crazy before Rhodey even said hello.

As if on cue, the door to Rhodey's office opened and the Colonel walked out, wearing his dark blue uniform. His lips were pursed in a tight line and his eyes studied Steve for a moment while he walked over. "You look a lot better Captain." Rhodey commented, a tight smile forming and then disappearing as quickly as it had come. "Thanks." Steve nodded, "Likewise Colonel."

"Thank you." Rhodey gave a brief nod, "Follow me."

Steve followed the shorter man obediently, wishing he could fold his arms behind his back but the sling around his left arm prohibited the movement. As soon as he was through the door, his eyes came to rest on Sam who was sitting in one of the two leather chairs in front of Rhodey's desk, muscular arms crossed over his chest. He looked troubled, something that riled up the nervous whirl of emotions in Steve's stomach even more.

"Sam." Steve greeted his friend, holding out his right hand to shake once he'd taken a seat.

"Hey man. How's the arm?" Sam asked, giving Steve's hand a firm shake.

"Getting better. Bucky's been making sure I follow the doctor's instructions."

"That's good to hear." Sam smiled, some of the worry falling from his features. In the meantime, Rhodey had settled down in his chair. He cleared his throat, drawing Sam and Steve's attention to him. Steve's eyes flicked to Rhodey's desk, his eyebrows furrowing slightly when he found that the desk was empty, lacking any file that could give Steve a hint as to what this could be about.

"I'm glad you two could join me on such short notice." Rhodey began, resting his hands on his desk. His body language was reserved, purposefully being dialled back to hide Rhodey's feelings. "It's the least we could do after everything you've done for us and for Bucky." Steve insisted and Sam nodded fervently in agreement.

"And yet, Sam, you helped the Sergeant take part in a secret Shield operation. Wanna tell me what that was all about?"

Steve looked over to Sam who bowed his head, looking at least a little guilty. "Well, it was the right thing to do."

"And who gives you the authority to decide that?" Rhodey's face hardened with annoyance, his eyes reproachful, "Sam I know you were trying to help but you could have put the entire operation in danger!"

Sam clenched his jaw, looking down at his lap for a moment before looking to Steve whose face softened immediately. Sam cared about Bucky. There was no denying it. Although Sam hadn't been a big fan of Bucky initially, he had come to appreciate the man, the man's history and of course, what he meant to Steve. When Sam looked at Bucky, he saw Steve's Riley and that meant that he would do whatever he could to make sure that the two of them got the happy ending that he and Riley never got.  
"With all due respect Rhodey, but I doubt that Bucky could ever jeopardize a mission." Steve jumped in, his voice firm and strong, determined, "Bucky has the best training in the country and I'm not talking about Hydra. I'm talking about the military training he got before he was shipped out."

"I'm sorry Steve but that's dangerously arrogant." Rhodey cocked his head to the side, lips curling into a frustrated, angry frown, "He isn't cleared for active duty yet!"

"And if I were a captain in the army and not just at Shield, I would have had him cleared already." Steve insisted resolutely, locking eyes with Rhodey in a competition of stubbornness.

"And why is that?" Rhodey challenged. Steve squared his shoulders, working his jaw while he thought.

"Because if Bucky hadn't been there two days ago, I wouldn't have made it home." Steve stated with a flatness that indicated, clear as day, that Steve had made up his mind and wasn't about to change it. After a moment to consider, Rhodey relented, letting out a pained sigh and rubbing the bridge of his nose exasperatedly.

"Fury told me that Barnes isn't being prosecuted for what he did." Rhodey paused when Steve deflated visibly, leaning back in the chair with a relieved sigh, "Fury said something along the lines of that he knew something like that was going to happen- figures, the man does what he wants, disregarding any of the rules. He can afford to though. He's the director of Shield. But you Sam…" Rhodey looked over at Sam now, eyes a lot softer than they had been to start off with.

"I'm willing to take on whatever punishment you have for me." Sam replied, "I don't regret what I did. After all, Bucky did what he went there to do- he brought Steve back."

"And how did you know he was going to bring Steve back at all?" Rhodey asked him softly, an undertone of anger still evident in his voice, "How did you know that Hydra hadn't been waiting for something like that to happen? How did you know that he was going to be able to withstand everything he saw there?"

"Faith." Sam stated simply, "It was faith sir."

"Faith, huh?" Rhodey muttered, eyes coming to rest on Steve's hurt arm. He looked thoughtful so Sam and Steve let him think, waiting patiently for Rhodey to make his verdict.

Steve tore his eyes away from Rhodey to look at Sam, shooting him a grateful smile when Sam looked at him. Steve was so glad. He was so glad that he had met Sam a few years back on one of his morning runs. He was so glad that he and Sam had become friends. Without Sam, Steve wouldn't have been able to help Bucky at all. Without Sam, Steve would never have gotten out of his apartment again, wouldn't have _lived_ again.

"Faith." Rhodey hummed, drawing their attention back to him again. He was looking between Sam and Steve with thought-narrowed eyes for a moment before relaxing, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, "He had faith." Rhodey nodded to himself, smiling warmly, "Suppose that'll be enough."

* * *

"I thought I was done for." Sam admitted, picking at his croissant absent-mindedly. They were sitting at one of the bakeries in the area. From where they were sitting at the window, Steve could see the park he and Bucky had frequented during Bucky's rehabilitation. It made him feel slightly nostalgic, reminding him of just how far they'd come since then. "Same." Steve agreed, watching Sam's fingers work the croissant.

"Well _you_ had nothing to worry 'bout." Sam pointed out with a laugh, his fingers stilling, "I mean you weren't the one who got a benched soldier with a history of brainwashing and torture on one of Stark's private jets so he could save his best friend who was on a secret mission with Shield in Europe."

"Summed up like that it _does_ sound kind of stupid." Steve admitted cheekily, laughing when Sam shoved at his arm.

"C'mon man I practically saved your life by helping your Buck-o-man." Sam defended himself.

"I know." Steve turned serious, "And I appreciate that Sam. I really do." He had that earnest look on his face again, the one that made Sam feel like Steve was far too good for the world.

"C'mon man what are friends for? 'Sides, if I hadn't helped Bucky get to Europe, I think he might have killed me." Sam shifted his attention to his latte macchiato, stirring it idly while he waited for it to cool. Steve on the other hand, had his large hands wrapped around an extra-large cup of coffee.

"What was he like after I left?" Steve asked quietly.

"Huh?" Sam looked up at him, eyebrows arched quizzically.

"What was Bucky like after I left?" He wasn't sure if he really wanted to hear what Sam was about to tell him but sometimes you need something you don't want and Steve needed to know how Bucky had felt, despite how much it might hurt him to hear.

"Want me to be honest?" Sam asked.

"Always." Steve replied immediately, schooling his features to hide how anxious he was about this conversation.

"He was a wreck man." Sam admitted, running a hand over his buzz cut hair, "When I got to Shield, he was pacing up and down in front of the building. He looked like some kind of caged animal."

"Oh." Steve breathed, bowing his head to stare down into his cup of coffee while Sam continued.

"As soon as he saw me, he came marching over, demanding I take him home. I did. 'Course I did. He said he wanted to be left alone so I left him. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't happy about leaving him there on his own but he had Flake. She was having a hard time keeping up with him to be honest." Sam paused, risking a tentative sip of his drink, nodding when he found that it was ready to drink.

"What happened then?" Steve urged him on.

"An hour after I had left him, he called me, telling me all about his plan. He didn't make a lot of sense, he was beside himself, all over the place. He only started calming down when I agreed to his plan."

"And then you picked him up again?" Steve asked. Sam nodded.

"Found him sitting in your room. His right arm had long red lines on it and other red marks. Guess he had been kneading and scratching his arm with his left one."

"He never did that during his rehabilitation." Steve pointed out with a frown and Sam nodded.

"He was anxious, that's for sure. It was like he _needed_ to get to you. So I took him. I didn't want to have to put him in a restraint jacket for his own protection. 'Sides, I think he would've had my head if I had refused."

Steve felt heavy, like Sam had just laid a great burden on his shoulders. He had made Bucky feel like that. He had made Bucky panic, had made him ignore his service dog, had made him go against _Shield_ in order to make sure Steve was safe.

"I would have done the same thing." Steve admitted at a whisper. His head snapped up when Sam started laughing. "What?" he asked somewhat defensively.

"The two of you are honestly hopeless." Sam managed to dial his laughter down to an amused, endeared chuckle, "You guys would fight the world to keep each other safe, is that it?"

"Probably." Steve agreed, feeling his cheeks warm up.

"You should tell him." Sam smiled at Steve whose eyes had widened involuntarily at what Sam was implying.

"What're you talking about?" Steve stuttered, feeling his cheeks flame up in record time, the heat spreading from his cheeks all the way up to his ears and down his neck.

"C'mon Steve." Sam gave him a pointed look, "You can't honestly tell me that you feel nothing but platonic love for him." When Steve didn't answer, Sam continued, "You spent over a year trying to get him back on his feet. You purposefully didn't mention that it was your birthday when it was just so that he wouldn't be thrown off. You got punched, choked, _hurt._ You went back to Shield of all places, asked your old unit that, and don't tell me this wasn't the case, you were _afraid_ to see again, to help you fight freaking _Hydra_ in order to make sure that Bucky was safe. You stood up to Colonel Rhodes to defend Bucky, a freaking _colonel_ from the actual Unites States _army_. You can't tell me that you don't love the guy; that you're not _in love_ with him." Steve's mouth opened and closed uselessly while he stared at Sam. He felt helpless in the face of the unequivocal evidence Sam had just laid out in front of him. Keeping his feelings to himself made them seem less real, made it feel like he could keep pretending like they weren't there. Apparently, his feelings were real enough though, to project into his actions, into his eyes, allowing others to see them. That meant that Steve could no longer ignore them. He had to act on them now or force himself to stop feeling them completely. He couldn't do the latter though and even if there were a possibility, Steve never wanted to stop loving Bucky because it was the most beautiful and simultaneously painful thing that Steve had ever done and although it hurt, Steve clung onto the love because honestly? How could he _not_ love Bucky Barnes?

"That obvious, huh?" Steve asked a little breathlessly.

"I'm a therapist Steve, it's my job to read between the lines." Sam consoled him.

"Fair enough." Steve smiled a smile that looked a lot like defeat, "Been in love with the guy since we were kids." He admitted a little ruefully.  
Sam was the first person Steve was really talking to about his feelings for Bucky. Yes, Peggy had noticed but there's a rather large difference between _fancy_ and being _in love._

"That why you never found the right girl for you?" Sam asked curiously, leaning both elbows on the table and leaning his head in his hands.

"Yeah." Realization flashed across Steve's face and something settled in his eyes, an answer he had been searching for, for a very long time, "Even though I thought he was dead… I couldn't… I felt like I was cheating. Now I know why. It always felt like I was supposed to be with someone else."

"Someone with brown hair, blue eyes and broad expanses of pure muscle I'm guessing." Sam said slyly, grinning when Steve made a choking noise.

"C'mon Sam, really?" Steve gave him a deadpan look that had Sam giggling into the palm of his hand. Steve rolled his eyes, sipping at his coffee patiently until Sam had stopped giggling to himself. He was still smiling though, an excited glint in his chocolate eyes.

"What do I do now?" Steve asked Sam after a long pause, setting his coffee cup back down on the glass table.

"You got two options really," Sam stated simply, lifting his hand to count off Steve's options on his fingers as he spoke, "One, you pretend like we never had this conversation and you keep trying to pretend like you don't love him."

"What's the second?" Steve asked him stiffly. The first wasn't really an option. Sure it sounded like the easiest way out of this whole situation but he _couldn't_ pretend like he hadn't just now realized how _much_ he loved Bucky and that this was all very, very real. Steve had never been very good at lying so how was he supposed to convince himself and Bucky that Steve still saw their relationship the same way?

"Second," Sam pointed at his second finger, smirking lightly when Steve's eyes widened expectantly, "You tell him how you feel."

"Well this conversation's been useless." Steve exclaimed, throwing both hands up in the air just to cringe when his left arm punished him for the movement with strong shot of pain. Sam didn't comment on Steve's notable wince much to Steve's appreciation.

"Well do you have any other ideas Captain?" Sam asked, arching one eyebrow challengingly, "Those are literally your only two options." He paused, considering Steve for a moment before tilting his head to the side, "You _could_ of course just ditch Bucky and-."

"Not an option." Steve cut him off angrily, the line between his eyebrows running deep with annoyance.

"Then get your head out of your ass Rogers." Sam countered, "If you're scared of what he's going to say: don't be."

"And why is that?" Steve asked him edgily.

"Remember what I said about the two of you being willing to fight the world to keep each other safe? The man is willing to fistfight the moon for you so I really doubt he'll ever even consider leaving you for whatever reason you might give him to. Four years of brainwashing? Not even that made him forget about you completely. He _cares_ about you Steve. He ain't leaving you."  
Steve's entire frame relaxed and he sat back, giving Sam a painfully shocked look, like he hadn't had a clue about any of what Sam had just told him. "Gosh you're clueless Steve." Sam laughed, "Seriously, you're an overthinker. Just go with the flow."

Go with the flow. Steve could do that, right? Sure… right.

The two friends continued to chat and Steve was incredibly grateful when Sam changed the subject, telling him all about some of his new veterans. Now that Bucky's therapy was officially over, Sam was back in business and ready to take on whatever problem any of the veterans had. He'd taken a wealth of new experiences and knowledge with him from Bucky's therapy and Steve was confident that he was now able to help the veterans _even more_. While Steve did try his best to listen, his mind kept snapping back to what Sam had told him. Every time he thought about going home and seeing Bucky now, after that enlightening conversation, he felt butterflies in his stomach, having to rest a hand there in an attempt to calm them.

Eventually Sam had finished his latte macchiato and Steve had finished his coffee. Even Sam's croissant had made it into Sam's stomach. Sam insisted on driving Steve home although Steve would much rather have taken the metro, knowing it would take at least ten minutes longer if he was lucky.

He felt like he had when Bucky had invited him over to his house for the first time when they still had scraped knees and permanently dishevelled hair. He had been so nervous, wanting to make a good impression on the parents of his very first friend.

* * *

Too soon, Sam had let Steve out, shooting Steve a wink before pulling off the curb before Steve had the chance to change his mind and force his way back into the car. Steve stayed standing, rooted to the spot for quite some time, telling himself that he was enjoying the warm June evening. If he was being honest with himself though, he was stalling. Like a champ. Eventually and not without a heavy sigh, he made his way into their apartment building, up to the second floor and to their front door. He stalled again, key in the lock, composing himself before opening the door and walking in. "Bucky, I'm home!" Steve called, cringing when his voice came out at least an octave too high. He dropping the key into the small clay bowel on the dresser by the front door. He stopped, frowning when it dawned on him that he hadn't gotten a reply.  
"Bucky?" Steve called out again, a little louder. Still no reply. Unease settled in the pit of his stomach and he removed the sling quickly in order to shrug off his leather jacket. He managed to kick off his boots in no time also, putting the sling back on haphazardly before stopping dead in the middle of the living area again.  
"Flake? Come here girl!" Nothing. The unease in his stomach evolved into panic now and he rushed through the apartment, checking Bucky's bedroom first. The grey-walled room was empty. Bucky's backpack was gone, so was Flake, Bucky's smartphone and his new beloved ski jacket.

"Don't panic Rogers." He begged himself, trying to think rationally. So Bucky had gone out. On his own. Well, with Flake so he wasn't on his own. That was normal. Bucky was starting to act more independently, that was great! Steve should be happy but he wasn't… he was worried sick and upset and oh my gosh what if something happened to Bucky or what if he got triggered again? Could Flake pull him out of a trigger-induced state? Flashbacks yes but triggers? "Smartphone!" Steve called out, rushing back to the living area where his own phone was still tucked away in his leather jacket. He had just made it to the front of the apartment and was rather violently tugging at his jacket, when the lock in the front door clicked. Steve froze in the action of assaulting his jacket, considering his options for a short moment before rushing to the couch to pretend like he hadn't just been panicking.

He flopped down on the couch as casually as possible just as the front door opened. He kept his eyes on the window to the right of the couch for a moment, doing this as casually as possible before looking over at-.  
"Hey." Bucky smiled at Steve shyly, biting down on his bottom lip when he saw the shocked look on Steve's face. For the second time that day, Steve's mouth open and closed repeatedly without uttering a single word. Bucky chuckled, running his hand through his hair sheepishly.

"On all the photos, I had short hair. I thought you might, you know… I mean. I thought you might like it like this." Steve's eyes were still glued to Bucky's hair that was cut short, exactly as he'd always had it. His face was clean shaven too. He looked _exactly_ like he had all those years back. He looked exactly like he had the day he'd left with the army. Steve swallowed heavily, getting up on shaky legs to walk over to Bucky. Steve's eyebrows hitched up slightly in a wistful, happy and yet sad sort of half-smile half-frown like his face was unable to decide what emotion to display. Bucky watched Steve intently, trying to decipher every shift in his best friend's handsome face.

"It suits you." Steve whispered, swallowing again when he found that his throat was bone dry, "Makes you look a lot younger."

"You think I got a chance with the ladies now?" Bucky joked and Steve bowed his head, chuckling.

"You always had a chance with the ladies and you know it Buck. Even with the long hair and beard I bet you'd find yourself a nice girl."

"You think?" Bucky asked him, his eyes fixed on Steve's. Steve felt something in him clench, a weight on his chest that made him feel almost like he was having an asthma attack. There was something in Bucky's voice, something that hadn't been there before. Steve didn't recognize it but he knew that it made him feel nervous. Before he knew what he was doing, his right hand had lifted to cup Bucky's cheek. Bucky leaned into the contact, a gentle smile playing at his lips. Now that the beard was gone, Steve could see the curve to Bucky's lips again, the way the edges twisted up in a charming sort of way when he smiled.

"Do me a favour?" Steve asked him quietly and Bucky nodded readily, eyes still studying Steve's own, "Next time you go out, just let me know where you are."

"Were you worried about me?" Bucky's eyes widened with surprise, especially when Steve nodded, "Damn I didn't want to make you worry. Sorry Stevie."

"It's no problem Buck." Steve assured him, leaning forward so that their foreheads were touching, "I was just worried that something might happen." It was then that he noticed that Flake wasn't with Bucky. Steve pulled away, frowning at the spot next to Bucky that the service dog would normally occupy. "Where is-."

"Wow Stevie you're only noticing that now?" Bucky teased him, laughing when Steve glared at him, "Clint came with me to get my hair cut. He took Flake with him for the weekend, thought I should give her a break for a bit. Like a dog holiday I guess."

"Are you gonna be alright?" Steve asked Bucky worriedly.

"Sure I am pal." Bucky grinned up at Steve warmly, "I got you, don't I?"

* * *

There you go guys! So this was more of a filler-chapter so I hope it wasn't _too_ boring for you guys! Depending on how quickly I finish chapter 22 and depending on what you guys say, I might post the next chapter a little earlier next week to make up for it :)

Again, reviews give me life so don't be shy- let me know what you think!

And thank you so so much for reading this far, it really means a lot to me!

See you guys soon! :)


	22. Chapter 22

Well hello everyone! I hope you guys have had a nice week so far!  
This chapter has not been beta read so I really hope it's okay. Don't hesitate to let me know what you guys think! Also, if you have any requests or prompts, feel free to message me here! :)

Enjoy~

* * *

 **Chapter 22**

Steve didn't know what had woken him. He cracked open one eye, looking at his window to find nothing but darkness lurking beyond the glass. He peeked at the open door, wondering if Flake was coming to say hi. That's when he remembered that Flake was at Clint's for the weekend. He groaned, turning away from the door and pulling his blanket up to his chin, snuggling up to his wonderfully soft and warm pillow, ready to fall asleep again and hopefully sleep til morning.

That's when he heard what had woken him.

A shrill cry. A sound that Steve had never heard come out of Bucky's mouth before. It even took his mind a moment to realize that it was Bucky screaming. It just sounded so removed from anything remotely human or familiar. He'd witnessed many a nightmare-filled night but this seemed too real to be a dream; too loud, too violent. He was upright in bed within seconds, breaths shuddering in his chest when he exhaled. For a moment, Steve panicked. What if Zola had survived? No. Steve shook his head vehemently. He'd witnessed Zola's death first-hand. But what if burning those files hadn't been enough? What if Hydra had come for Bucky? Surely no dream could make a man scream like that? It sounded like he was in actual pain, doused in alcohol and set on fire. By the time he'd finished that thought, he had detangled himself from his warm haven of blankets. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he was up, darting to his room door as quickly as his legs willed. The rest of the apartment was dark and Steve had not the time nor state of mind to look for light switches. The problem was, he didn't know their new apartment the way he had his old one so he bumped into furniture and stumbled into walls, swearing under his breath while he rushed over to Bucky's room, wincing every time Bucky screamed again. Every scream seemed to become louder and more anguished. Steve wanted to block his ears and pretend like it didn't sound like someone was torturing Bucky. He'd never wanted to hear Bucky sound like that but now he had, he was certain that he wasn't about to forget that sound anytime soon. It was probably going to make an appearance in Steve's nightmares about Bucky, there was no doubt about that.

He burst through Bucky's bedroom door, coming to an abrupt halt in the middle of his room when his eyes found his best friend. Unlike Steve's room window, Bucky's let in the moon's light, illuminating a thrashing, sweating Bucky Barnes. Bucky's tank top-covered torso was arching away from the blanket as thought someone was hurting him and his body was convulsing under the torture. His face was scrunched up in agony and tears were running down his face. His hands were buried in the blankets, twisting them with so much force that his metal hand tore right through the thin fabric, filling the room with the sound of ripping cloth. Steve was spooked, shocked into silence for much longer than he might want, his mind stumbling over every painful detail while he tried to wrap his mind around the sight before him.  
Bucky had had many nightmares but none of them had been expressed like this. He'd sweat, mumble in his sleep and maybe flinch but not thrash about like a man being murdered.

"Bucky?" Steve called out in a shaking voice but Bucky didn't respond. Instead, he screamed again, white teeth flashing in the light of the moon. The sound, now combined with seeing Bucky in front of him, shook Steve to the core, made his heart stutter in his chest and his breath hitch. He didn't want to hear that. He didn't want to hear Bucky make that sound. Didn't want to see Bucky writhe in pain.

Never again.

"Buck? Come on Bucky you gotta wake up." Steve tried to call to him again but yet again, there was no response from Bucky except for more writhing and teeth-clenching. Steve covered his face with his hands, repressing the sudden urge to scream as loudly as he could. He knew what he had to do now, knew that he had to place himself in to the line of fire to get his best friend out of his nightmare. Touch usually backfired with Bucky when he was having a nightmare but it was also the most effective way to wake him up. It didn't hurt Bucky. Steve on the other hand, it might just hurt- badly. Still, getting hurt was a small price to pay for Steve if it meant helping Bucky.  
Steve took a deep breath, wincing loudly when Bucky screamed again, body arching away from the mattress, legs kicking out violently. " _Steve!"_ The name slipped out of Bucky's mouth in a shrill, broken cry for help when Steve thought that Bucky had no more air left in his lungs to scream. Steve's body went cold as he watched Bucky collapse back onto the blanket with a whimper. Zola's words came back to him like a punch to the gut, making him feel winded and dizzy.

" _Then he screamed your name like a plea, like an echo. It was how we knew he was losing himself."_

"I'm here Bucky!" Steve called out desperately, rushing to Bucky's side just to hover over his best friend uselessly, "Buddy I'm right here! Open your eyes Buck!" But Bucky didn't open his eyes. Whatever nightmare he was in, it had its cold fingers wrapped tightly around Bucky's mind. He was stuck and it was up to Steve to get him out.

Steve took a deep breath to calm himself, readying himself for whatever Bucky might do once Steve woke him. Slowly, he climbed on top of the bed, straddling Bucky's hips with his legs without touching the man- not quite yet. He had to hurry before Bucky's body convulsed again. He lowered his right hand slowly, watching Bucky's face while he did so. His hand wrapped around Bucky's cold metal wrist carefully. He had expected Bucky to jerk awake but he didn't; instead he kept shaking his head from left to right violently as if he were trying to escape the images in his mind. Steve's heart was racing, his lungs begging for more air but he ignored it resolutely. He bent forward, his torso now hovering above Bucky's. With his left hand, he moved to hold onto Bucky's right wrist.  
The first thing Steve noticed when he touched Bucky's skin, was how incredibly warm his friend was. Then, he noticed how Bucky's body stilled before jolting awake. Bucky's eyes flew open and he gasped, drawing in a large gulp of air like a man that had been seconds away from drowning. Steve moved to restrict Bucky's movements, legs pushing against Bucky's thighs to keep him still. "Steve!" Bucky begged breathlessly, eyes darting frantically while he tried to get up and away from the constraints blindly, "Stevie!"  
"I'm here." Steve promised, tears coming to his eyes at how lost and desperate Bucky sounded, "Bucky can you see me? I'm right here." Steve tried to smile, releasing his grip on Bucky's wrists and leaning down a little farther so that Bucky could see him better in the moon's light. Bucky's large eyes, of which the blue was almost completely swallowed by his dilated pupils, were studying Steve's face frantically before they settled. His mouth bent into a loving smile that softened his entire face and the horror melted away, creases in his skin vanishing like old memories.

"Steve."

"Yeah. It's me Buck." At that, Bucky's entire body went slack and his smile widened a little, "You had a nightmare."

"Nightmare?" Bucky looked confused. His eyes shifted, like he was tempted to look around but too afraid to look away from Steve.

"Yeah. You were asleep buddy." Steve explained quietly, his voice but a whisper in the dead of night.

"It was a dream." Bucky nodded, frowning confusedly for a moment, his focus shifting to himself briefly before he diverted his undivided attention to Steve again. He lifted his right hand, touching it to Steve's left cheek in the gentlest of touches. His hand trembled and was still slightly damp from the sweat but Steve didn't mind. He studied Bucky's face much in the same way that Bucky was studying his. Steve waited patiently, holding his breath while Bucky stroked his fingers over Steve's cheekbones like he was trying to convince himself that Steve was real.

"You with me Bucky?" Steve asked him after a long moment, hoping that he didn't sound as breathless as he felt. Bucky blinked, seeming to come back to reality. Steve regretted having said something immediately because Bucky dropped his hand, the wide-eyed look falling from his features immediately.

"I am." Bucky croaked, "My name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. I am a retired sniper of the elite infantry regiment the 107th. I was captured by Hydra, tortured and brainwashed. A mission went wrong and Shield found me and brought me back to America where you found me one and a half years ago." Bucky arched a brow in a request for Steve to confirm the information.

"Right." Steve nodded briefly.

"I'm with you." Bucky mumbled, averting his eyes from Steve's when Steve's face betrayed his concern. Instead, Bucky settled on staring at the ceiling blankly, tapping out a rhythm on his chest with his metal hand to give himself something to do.

"Do you want to sit up?" Steve asked sheepishly, trying to fill the silence. Bucky nodded immediately. Steve climbed off Bucky quickly, helping him sit up against his headboard.

Once Bucky had settled, Steve picked up a torn piece of blanket, using it to wipe away the moisture on Bucky's face carefully, trying not to focus on the way Bucky's lips were still trembling and the way Bucky was working hard at averting his eyes. Steve was tempted to ask Bucky what was going on in his head but Steve knew better than to push Bucky. As difficult as it sometimes was, he had to wait for Bucky to speak up of his own accord. And so he did; wiping away the last traces of Bucky's tears and his sweat from his face, his neck and the part of his chest that was showing.

"Did I…?" Bucky couldn't finish the question but he didn't have to- Steve knew exactly what he was asking.

"No." Steve promised him, "You didn't do anything this time."

"Good." Bucky swallowed, lifting both hands to scrub at his face, "God Stevie…" He trailed off, shaking his head and pinching his eyes closed as tightly as possible before letting out a shuddering breath.

"It was a nightmare." Steve reminded him softly, pleadingly, begging Bucky to look at him again, to show him what he was feeling.

"It was a dream." Bucky nodded, seeming to only realize it now although he'd said it himself before, "You're here." The confused frown returned to his face again. His eyes darted around the room for a brief moment before settling on Steve again. Steve relaxed visibly despite the new look of desperation breaking through to the surface of Bucky's irises, making his eyes shimmer. "Stevie you're here."

"I am. Always am Buck." Steve promised him earnestly, wanting Bucky to know for certain that Steve meant that with every fibre in his strong body. He shifted to sit in front of Bucky, cross-legged with his hands resting in his lap, watching Bucky attentively.

Steve's facial expression flickered between brave and broken continuously, his lips quivering and his eyebrows furrowing. Looking at Bucky now, with his short hair and shaven jaw, Steve felt more like he was talking to the Bucky from five years ago and not the man that had been tortured for so long. His emotions were flaring up and stuttering, his mind racing, unable to decide which emotion was more important, which words to use, which parts of all of this to show Bucky. It was like he was trying to deal with two people at the same time and it was something that his mind simply couldn't compute.

"You weren't there though." Bucky muttered confusedly, his frown deepening, a lost sort of look washing over his face. It made Bucky look even younger, almost childlike with round expressive eyes and a pouty mouth that was hanging open with trembling lips. Bucky averted his eyes, looking down at his hands of which one shimmered in the moon's soft touches, "But you're here now." He looked up at Steve again, the unmistakable hint of a question lingering in the furrow of his brows.

"I am." Steve promised him again, biting down on his tongue, waiting patiently for Bucky to separate the dream from reality, secretly praying that he would be able to.

"I missed you Steve." Bucky gasped so suddenly that Steve jumped a little. Without warning, Bucky fell forward and against Steve in a clumsy movement so unlike the Winter Soldier that it made Steve's heart flutter. Steve grunted, having to push back with all his might to stop himself from falling backwards together with a much heavier Bucky.

"I missed you too Buck. More than you know." Steve promised, parting his legs enough for Bucky to fit his own legs in between Steve's. Bucky accepted the invitation readily, shifting to sit even closer to Steve, basking in the warmth that Steve's bare upper body emanated. "I'm sorry 'bout this." Bucky apologized hoarsely. His voice sounded sore, probably from all the screaming he had done.

"There's nothing you need to apologize for." Steve chided gently, wrapping his strong arms around Bucky to pull him into a hug, pretending like his left arm didn't hurt.

"Thanks."

"Nothing to thank me for either." Steve smiled, shifting when Bucky moved to lean his head against the spot right underneath Steve's left collarbone.

"You're a punk Stevie." Bucky muttered so quietly that Steve had almost missed it had he not been expecting something like that to come from Bucky.

"Yeah." Steve agreed, fingers playing idly with the tag at the back of Bucky's white tank top.

"My punk though." It was so quiet, so weak that Steve almost managed to convince himself that he had imagined it. Convincing himself that he'd just imagined it would have made things a lot easier for Steve but there was no denying it- Bucky had really just said that. The realization hit him like a strike of lightning, making him want to twitch. His chest filled up with a warmth that Steve had seldom felt but welcomed whole-heartedly.

"Sure Buck." Steve agreed, "But you knew that already."

Sam would be very proud of him. He was rolling with it. That thought made Steve smile a little.

Steve let the silence in the apartment envelope them for a moment, focusing on the quiet sound of their breathing. The quiet wasn't at all awkward but rather content and their bodies together felt warm and like two puzzle pieces slotting together perfectly.

It was only once Bucky let out a quiet sigh, relaxing into the embrace a little more, that Steve dared to speak up. "Do you wanna talk about it?" Steve offered. Bucky took a while to answer but Steve could sense that Bucky was thinking so he waited.

"They were trying to break me." Bucky muttered weakly in a voice raw with emotion and hurt, "Strapped me to a table. Hurt me. They were hurtin' me so bad Stevie. Kept asking me what my name was. They wanted me to forget my name Stevie. They kept hurtin' me more and more and asking. I kept telling them to go to hell."

"It was just a dream Bucky."

"It wasn't though Stevie."

"It is now." Steve replied gently, lifting his hand to slide it through Bucky's hair. The brunet groaned, lifting his head and resting it on Steve's shoulder to give Steve a better angle to play with his hair.

"If you don't stop, I might just fall asleep again." Bucky drawled, voice heavy with his Brooklyn accent.

"Isn't that the goal of all of this?" Steve asked him, enjoying the appreciative noises Bucky was making in the back of his throat.

"Guess so." Bucky shrugged weakly, "Could you… do me a favour though?" Steve felt Bucky's shoulders tense a little and his hand moved from Bucky's hair to his shoulders.

"What's the favour Buck?"

"Stay. I don't wanna be alone. Not after… you know." Bucky lifted his head from Steve's shoulder, presenting Steve with a face that didn't seem sure about whether to express bashfulness or contentment because Steve was now massaging Bucky's tense shoulders gently in an attempt to put him at ease again.

"Of course I'll stay Buck." Steve smiled at him, "It'll be just like when we were kids." Bucky's face lit up and relief flooded him, successfully getting his shoulders to slump. Steve smiled at him lightly, letting his hands drop onto Bucky's legs that the brunet had wrapped around Steve's waist loosely in order to sit closer to Steve.

"I woke you, didn't I?" Bucky asked him, bowing his head ashamedly when Steve nodded, the light in his grey-blue eyes dying out again.

"It ain't half bad though." Steve tried to cheer Bucky up immediately, wanting that light in Bucky's eyes back as desperately as a parched man wanting water, "Midnight chats were always our best."

"Yeah." Bucky smiled a little dreamily, "I remember those. Sitting on that ugly fire escape at your old apartment. Didn't you always look out for those two stray cats when we were out there? Making sure they were still alive?"

"You remember." Steve grinned at Bucky, the warm feeling in his chest spreading out through every inch of his body, making him feel slightly giddy.

"Yeah. Remembered that not too long ago actually." Bucky admitted, "I remember the way I could wrap my thumb and index fingers around your wrist too." The smile faded from Bucky's face and his eyes began to study Steve. He looked conflicted, a ghost of a frown pulling his eyebrows together slightly. His eyes moved from Steve's familiar but maybe slightly wider face to his thick neck, broad shoulders to his muscular arms. His wrists were somehow no longer thin and Bucky knew that he wouldn't be able to wrap his fingers around Steve's wrist anymore. Steve's hands though, they had stayed the same. Steve had always had big hands and no amount of training could change a person's hands. They were still soft, not made for combat but rather for artistic things.

"You okay?" Steve asked worriedly, massaging his thumb against Bucky's kneecap distractedly.

"Yeah." Bucky blinked, seeming to force the bothered look off of his face to avoid further questions, "Just shaken up."

"Understandably." Steve nodded, "I just wish those dreams were nothing but nightmares."

"Me too, pal." Bucky mumbled earnestly, laughing a somewhat self-deprecating laugh before leaning into Steve again in search for comfort. Steve wrapped one arm around Bucky's back while Bucky hugged Steve with both of his arms. Steve felt the unmistakable pressure of Bucky's metal arm against his back, squeezing slightly harder than his flesh arm did. The contrast between the cold metal and Bucky's warm skin almost gave Steve goosebumps.

"I'm sorry Buck." Steve muttered, resting his head against the side of Bucky's.

"What're you apologizing for?" Bucky asked him quietly. His voice was soft and resigned, the kind of tone his voice always had when he was tired.

"For all the things you were forced to go through."

"Not your fault." Bucky mumbled. He probably wanted to sound a lot more stubborn than he did but Bucky was getting heavier against Steve, suggesting that he was ready to sleep again. He'd never been good at staying awake when he was tired. Even when they were kids having a sleepover, Bucky would often fall asleep while listening to Steve talk about art. It wasn't that he didn't try to stay awake, he really did, but to no avail.

Steve chose not to argue with his tired best friend. Instead, his eyes took in the mess that was once Bucky's blanket. Bucky hadn't even realized that he'd destroyed his blanket. Bucky might not be hypervigilant anymore but he was still observant and it worried Steve that he hadn't taken note of his surroundings properly. Steve drew in a breath, faking a yawn that had Bucky looking up at him with wide eyes.

"You tired Stevie? Wanna get some sleep?"

"Sounds good to me." Steve smiled gently, his face softening at the concern written all over Bucky's face. Honestly, he should be more concerned with himself instead of Steve. "I wanna get my blanket alright? Will you wait up for me?" Steve asked.

"Sure Steve." Bucky nodded slowly, shifting back to sit against his headboard to give Steve the space to get up, watching him walk out, eyes trained on the line between Steve's shoulder blades.

* * *

Steve managed to make it back to Bucky's room without earning any new bruises from the furniture, holding up his blanket triumphantly when he joined Bucky again. "Dork." Bucky muttered fondly, making space for Steve on his bed.

"You noticed." Steve noted, looking at the neat pile of blanket shreds on the floor next to Bucky's bed. Bucky nodded, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Took a while but yeah. Sorry about that."

"Nothing we can't replace Bucky." Steve smiled warmly. Bucky knew what Steve meant by that. He meant _as long as you're okay_ because for Steve, Bucky was absolutely irreplaceable.

The bed was a little wider than a single but it was still a tight squeeze for two men their size. Still, Steve had promised Bucky that he'd stay and that was exactly what he was planning to do. Before lying down, Steve spread his own blanket over Bucky's large body, making sure that even Bucky's bare feet where covered. Bucky took a deep breath, smiling up at Steve while the tall blond climbed into Bucky's bed rather awkwardly.

Steve felt clumsy, missing his small body that could fit anywhere so easily. His body felt too big for him now, difficult to control. His long limbs were awkwardly pushed together, trying to take up as little space as possible. He focused on trying to figure out where Bucky's limbs were in an attempt to avoid them, nervous about touching Bucky. The problem was, Steve was lying to Bucky's left, meaning that he was lying closest to Bucky's metal arm- the one that gave off absolutely no warmth.

"Hey Steve?" Steve jolted, lying stiff as a board while wondering for a second if Bucky had noticed Steve flinch.

"What's up?" Steve replied hesitantly.

"Thanks for this. I know this isn't really the way you wanted to spend your Saturday night."

"Honestly?" Steve turned his head to face Bucky, smiling when he found that Bucky had done the same, "I can't think of a place I'd rather be right now." Steve's words were met by the sort of grin Steve hadn't seen Bucky grin in over five years. It was beautiful and radiant without a care in the world. It reached all the way up to his eyes, making them crinkle at the edges, his eyes sparkling with a childlike joy. It stoles Steve's breath for a gruelling few seconds where he was rendered incapable of doing anything but stare. Bucky was beautiful. Like this, smiling like he hadn't just had a nightmare, smiling at Steve like nothing had changed over the past years. Like this, being _himself_ , Bucky was absolutely beautiful.

"You're such a sap Stevie!" Bucky chuckled, using the strength of his metal arm to pull Steve into his arms. Steve's head came to rest on Bucky's left shoulder and his right leg moved to drape over Bucky's left leg.

"Won't your arm go…" Steve's voice trailed off when he realized what he was saying.

"Numb?" Bucky laughed, grinning when he managed to faintly make out the embarrassed blush on Steve's face, "Doubt it." He added, placing a kiss on Steve's temple in the middle of his giddy laughter. It was something Bucky had done so unthinkingly, so naturally that he probably hadn't even _noticed_. Steve on the other hand, definitely had and the gesture was enough to make Steve's face feel like it was about to melt right off of his bones. He bit his lip, closing his eyes as tightly as he could and counting down to ten before releasing a long, calming breath. He was grown man, he could handle this!

He listened to Bucky's quiet laughter until it gave way to a sigh that lifted Bucky's chest before letting it fall again. "Is this okay with you?" Bucky asked him after a long moment of content silence.

"Yeah. It is." Steve smiled, craning his neck to look up at Bucky who was watching him warily with a hint of worry turning the corners of his mouth down.

"Sure?"

"Of course Buck! I trust you, remember?" Bucky looked up at the ceiling, giving Steve the opportunity to study the profile of his face while he waited for Bucky to word his thoughts.

"Haven't had anyone this close in a long time." Bucky admitted softly.

"I know. It means a lot that you trust me this much Bucky." Steve nuzzled the scarring on Bucky's shoulder with his cheek gently, the gesture drawing Bucky's eyes back to Steve's.

"Who else if not you Stevie?"

Steve didn't know what to say to that. It was one of those precious moments that Steve tried to memorize, taking in every detail on Bucky's face, the sheepish, vulnerable twist to his lips, the way the moonlight danced in his blue eyes.

If only Steve could tell Bucky how beautiful he looked.

If only he could tell Bucky how much he loved him.

* * *

Alright so there you go! I really hope you enjoyed it! This chapter made my heart happy to write and yet it was kind of sad too.  
Again, thank you guys so much for sticking with this ff up until now. I hope it's still interesting enough even after so many chapters! I'll have the next chapter finished for you guys next week! See you then!


	23. Chapter 23

Hey guys! You have my sincerest apologies for the extreme delay! I had 23 done last Tuesday and then realized, together with my beta-reader, that it just wasn't… right; you know? So I ended up rewriting it during the course of this week and am happy to say that I finally think it's good enough to post.

Anyway so thank you for your patience and please do let me know what you think!  
And thank you so, so much for your reviews on the last chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter 23**

Steve opened his eyes, blinking against the late morning sun. His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowing at the ceiling he was staring up at. It wasn't his ceiling. Yes, it was painted in the exact same shade of white as his, but he was almost certain that he was not lying under his own ceiling. He continued to glare at the ceiling confusedly, waiting for sleep to say its final goodbyes and let him think straight again. In the back of his mind, he registered that his back ached slightly, something that was unusual for him nowadays. It was only once he had buried his grudge against the ceiling and had chosen to look to his right, that the memories of the night before came crashing down on him like a vicious wave, its water clearing his mind of any grogginess. His body went rigid and he drew in a startled breath. To his right, halfway squashed against the wall, albeit looking comfortable, lay a sleeping Bucky Barnes.

The nightmare! Right! Steve wanted to kick himself for forgetting about that for even just a moment. _That's_ why he wasn't lying in his own room! He was lying in Bucky's room, under Bucky's ceiling, in Bucky's bed, _with_ … Steve felt his face heat up uncomfortably and he bit his bottom lip, wishing that this didn't fluster him as much as it did.

He tried to think back to the night before, tried to remember how he had felt then. He concluded that it was very possible that his worry about Bucky had somehow made him more resistant to turning embarrassingly red but apparently, that was no more. He felt like a furnace. His eyes, by the way, were staring up at the ceiling again, wide and blue and slightly terrified. Their midnight chat was playing back in his mind like a gag-reel and he cringed inwardly, remembering every thought, every feeling, but most of all- he remembered what Bucky's hand on his face had felt like. He remembered the endeared look on Bucky's face when he'd said Steve's name.

Steve clenched his jaw and shut his eyes as tightly as he could. He had to get a grip! Yes, he'd put himself in an awkward situation but he could handle this! He was a grown man and this was _just_ Bucky! Bucky his best friend! Bucky who used to take baths with him in their underwear when they were still kids and had gotten caked in mud playing in Bucky's backyard. Bucky who used to snuggle up to Steve in winter to keep him as warm as possible when the heating in Steve's cheap apartment had failed again. They had done this before! Numerous times!

Yet not once before had Steve realized how absolutely wonderful it felt to wake up next to Bucky Barnes. And that, Steve quickly realized, was a blatant lie. It had always felt wonderful, always felt _right_. Waking up next to Sharon, the only person Steve had dated during Bucky's absence, hadn't felt half as good as it did waking up next to Bucky. So how was Steve ever going to be happy waking up next to anyone _but_ Bucky? Bucky was home for Steve and Steve knew with every fibre in his body that that wasn't going to change- ever. Steve groaned, stiffening again when he realized that he could have woken Bucky up with that. His head fell to the side painstakingly slowly, bringing Bucky into view in a dramatic sweep of Steve's wide eyes. The brunet was lying on his stomach, metal shoulder pressed right up against the wall, arm buried somewhere under the blanket that the two of them shared. His right arm, Steve's eyes trailed from Bucky's shoulder all the way to his wrist, was lying across Steve's chest, hand draped down the side of Steve's torso lazily. Steve concentrated on his own breathing for a moment, watching Bucky's arm rise with his chest before falling just as his chest did. Steve's eyes flicked from Bucky's muscular arm to his face. Steve's face softening immediately when he took a moment to just _look_. Bucky looked blissfully content. His face completely relaxed and soft, the hard line of his eyebrows non-existent in his sleeping state. The peaceful look on Bucky's face made him look a lot younger, carrying that cheeky, childlike charm the way it always used to before trauma had hardened his features. Steve looked down at Bucky's parted lips that were letting air flow in and out between them while he breathed slowly and evenly. His brown hair was sticking up in all directions, his fringe falling in his face.

Bucky looked just like he had all those years ago, before the army, before Hydra, before the Winter Soldier. And yet, on closer inspection, Steve noticed small differences, creases around his mouth that hadn't been there before, the absence of laughter lines that he should have by now.

A warm feeling spread through Steve's body, starting from his chest and ending right at the tips of his toes and fingers. He let out a content sigh, smiling at the sleeping form of his best friend. If Steve was ever allowed to make this his reality, he would jump at the chance.

His smile faded.

But Bucky didn't love Steve the same way Steve loved him. Sure, Bucky loved him, there was no doubt about that but Bucky loved him like a brother, not as a boyfriend. In fact, Steve couldn't recall Bucky ever showing any interest in men before. He was always chasing skirts, trying to convince Steve to do the same. And this Bucky? What was this Bucky like? He was only starting to regain his old personality, to remember who he was before all of that. Somehow Steve doubted that Bucky was even remotely close to considering a relationship with anyone at that point in time.

It was a selfish thought… but Steve was glad for that, hoping that it would give him some more time with Bucky, some more time to dream of _what ifs_ and cooking breakfast for Bucky; just the two of them, like it always had been.

Steve decided to shatter the content atmosphere, to dispel the magical feeling of warmth within himself before he could dare to believe that any of this could ever be his. He sat up slowly as not to startle Bucky, holding onto Bucky's right arm to stop it from dropping too abruptly. He let the arm down slowly, watching Bucky's face carefully.

Should he leave? Should he go back to his room? Shower? Make breakfast? Surely Bucky would still be tired after the night he had?

As if sensing Steve's thoughts, Bucky shifted, grumbling to himself in his sleep. Steve's face softened and a smile spread across his face again without his permission. Bucky nuzzled the pillow that he had taken full custody of sometime during the night, muttering more nothings to himself. Steve decided to wait it out. Once Bucky had settled down again, he would get up and shower before making some breakfast. Just that…

"Steve."

Steve's eyes widened and his mouth fell open in surprise. He leant towards Bucky a little, watching his friend's face critically to figure out whether he was still sleeping or not.

He was.

"Are you dreaming buddy?" Steve asked him at a whisper, smile widening helplessly. It felt like Steve couldn't breathe. The warmth that he had tried to dispel came back full force, stronger than ever, spreading itself throughout Steve's body stubbornly, letting him know that it wasn't about to go anywhere. He knew that he was either about to cry or laugh but the battle between the two was pretty even at that point so he was left no other choice but to wait out the result. Again, Bucky shifted, nuzzling his pillow and smiling that smile that Steve hated to admit that he loved.  
"What're you dreaming about, huh?" Steve turned to face Bucky completely now, pushing his legs underneath Bucky's right arm slowly, letting it rest on his thighs.

Any thoughts of leaving had disappeared from his mind completely.

Steve tilted his head, watching Bucky's smile twitch but never falter.

He reached out a hand slowly. He let it hover above Bucky's head for a moment before letting his fingers glide through Bucky's impossibly soft hair, combing Bucky's messy fringe out of his face gently. Bucky hummed, his smile growing into a dopey grin that had Steve's heart skipping a beat. "Stevie?" Bucky asked in a voice rough with sleep. As if more of a reflex, Bucky's right hand held onto Steve's thigh gently, his thumb brushing over Steve's bare skin right below where his boxers ended. The gesture had Steve spluttering but he managed to pull himself together enough to reply, albeit a little higher in octave as was normal for him. "You awake Buck?"

"Think so." Bucky muttered, leaning his head closer to Steve's hand to encourage Steve to continue playing with his hair, "You wanna wake me like this every day from now on Stevie?" Bucky asked sleepily. When Steve laughed lightly, Bucky opened his eyes slowly, his smile growing impossibly wider when he saw Steve sitting on his bed with a light blush on his face.  
The sun was shining into Bucky's room, lighting everything, including Bucky's eyes up, making them seem more grey than blue.

"I'm serious though." Bucky insisted half-heartedly, still very much in the process of fully waking up, "This is the best thing ever."

"I'm sure when you get yourself a girl she'd be happy to do this for you." Steve smiled, feeling proud of himself for playing it off cool and managing to hide how much it hurt to say something like that. Bucky on the other hand, frowned, pushing against Steve's hand as if trying to prove a point.

"I don't want some gal to do this." Bucky mumbled, closing his eyes, more tired than he was letting on.

"Then what Buck?" Steve asked him, secretly hoping for a very specific answer. He knew he shouldn't be feeding his flame of hope but he couldn't really help it.

"Kinda want you to do this for me." Bucky mumbled, opening his eyes again to blink up at Steve. Steve's face had gone a darker shade of red and he was biting down on his tongue in an attempt to keep it together. Finding himself incapable of speaking properly, he offered Bucky a flustered smile that painted a similar smile onto Bucky's slightly tanned face.

"So uh…" After a moment of silence, Bucky sat up slowly, wrapping the blanket around his lower torso in the process before resting his arms on his lap, "What're you doing here?"

Right. Steve almost sighed It was normal for Bucky not to remember his nightmares the morning after. The worse the nightmare had been, the less likely Bucky was to remember anything about it. Sam had said that it was a mechanism his brain had developed to protect him.

"You had a nightmare." As soon as Steve had said that, Bucky's eyes were studying Steve worriedly, looking out for any cuts or bruises. "Hey." Steve reached out his hand, resting it on Bucky's right one comfortingly, "You didn't do anything."

"Don't just be saying that to make me feel-."

"You know I don't lie to you Buck." Steve interrupted him sternly, glaring him down until Bucky relented, lifting his left hand in surrender.

"Well I'm glad." Bucky decided, smiling up at Steve in that same broken way that Steve had gotten used to him smiling. Gone was the cat-like smile from a moment ago, gone was the carefreeness, the childlike expression on his face. There were shadows underneath Bucky's eyes now and his eyes themselves looked slightly hollow, haunted. His jaw was set and his lips were pursed in a tense line. In a gesture of helplessness, Steve released Bucky's right hand, trying to ignore how Bucky's fingers twitched as if he wanted to chase Steve's hand with his own. Bucky's storm-grey eyes followed the movement of Steve's hand until it came to rest on the top of Bucky's head where Steve's fingers started to card through Bucky's hair again.

"Thank you, Steve."

"For what?"

"For saving me."

Steve's fingers stalled…

"Any…. Anytime Buck."

* * *

Steve felt less flustered, less shaken as soon as he was standing in front of the oven with a spatula in his hand. He had pulled over a pair of jogging pants and a white t-shirt that stretched obscenely across his broad chest and shoulders. He'd left Bucky in his room as soon as the brunet was fully awake, giving him the time he needed to get ready.

Steve's hair was still tousled but he decided to tend to that when he went to shower in the evening.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Bucky walk into the living area on bare feet that tapped against the floorboards gently. The sizzling of the eggs in the pan filled Steve's mind with white noise while the conversation he had just had with Bucky played back in his mind while he analysed and analysed and-.

"You'd be the perfect husband, you know that?" Inwardly, Steve was jumping out of his skin and screaming, probably dropping the spatula and catapulting the scrambled eggs across the kitchen by mistake. On the outside, he managed to supress his fright to a mere twitch.

"Must you sneak up on me like that?" Steve muttered reproachfully, smiling when Bucky snorted. Steve felt a weight settle on his shoulder right before a few strands of hair tickled his ear. Bucky was leaning his chin on Steve's shoulder, peering down at his soon-to-be breakfast hungrily.

"Sorry."

"You should only apologize when you mean it, jerk." Steve chastised him playfully and Bucky gave him another snort.

"Well I _am_ kind of sorry." Bucky offered cheekily, "I mean I wouldn't want ya to hurt yourself with that frying pan."

"I'm a trained agent Buck, I'm sure I can handle a frying pan."

"You sure?"

"Buzz off." Steve muttered moodily, "Or do you not want breakfast after all?"

"I'd die without breakfast Stevie! Didn't you get the memo? My metabolism-."

"I know!" Steve interrupted him with a laugh, "And here I thought you used to eat a lot before you went off to the army. I have never been more wrong."

"If you weren't making me breakfast, I might even consider pretending to be offended." Bucky mused. Steve's heart jumped into his throat when he felt Bucky wrap his arms around Steve's waist, right hand taking a hold of his left to interlock his hands and rest them on Steve's stomach. Yet despite Steve's fluster and despite how nervous their position made him, he revelled in it, smiling to himself while he continued to prepare their breakfast, Bucky watching Steve's hands lazily.

This, was by far the most perfect morning Steve had ever had in his life.

* * *

Later that day, Steve and Bucky were watching TV, shoulders leant against one another when Bucky suddenly straightened up, looking over at Steve confusedly. Knowing what that look meant, Steve muted the TV quickly before turning his full attention to Bucky.

"What did you remember?" Steve asked him quietly, ready to give him the time he needed to decipher the sometimes confusing and jumbled memory. "Who's Sharon?" Bucky was sure that he hadn't known a Sharon before, knew that she hadn't played a role in his life before. The memory was comprised of nothing but a name; not a face, not an emotion.

"Sharon?" Steve's voice shook a little and Bucky's focus shifted from himself to Steve immediately.

"Who is she?" Bucky pressed.

"I told you about her once. The day I took you out of the interrogation room the first time?" Realization spread across Bucky's face and he nodded for Steve to continue his explanation, "Well I was together with her three years ago, for about a month. It didn't take long for us to realize that things were going to work out between the two of us."

"Why's that?" Bucky asked, edging a little closer to Steve curiously. Steve didn't quite know how to answer that question. He wanted to be honest with Bucky because lying to him was impossible for Steve and yet he didn't want to tell Bucky what he had realized through the relationship with Sharon. "She was really sweet and all," Steve started, speaking slowly enough to double-check every word before uttering it, "She was really smart, caring and incredibly ambitious."

"Sounds kinda like you." Bucky commented.

"Yeah well, besides that, we had nothing in common. She was always busy with work and I was-." Steve's word-filter sounded alarm and his mouth snapped shut automatically with a loud clack of his teeth.

"You were…?" Of course Bucky would want to know how that sentence finished, especially because Steve's face was going from pale to rosy in record time.

"I just… wasn't ready for a serious relationship. At least… not with Sharon." Steve struggled for words, looking down at his lap where his fingers were interlocking awkwardly.

"What were you waiting for?" Bucky inquired, eyes shimmering with the feintest hint of worry for his best friend.

"I didn't realize this at the time when we broke up, but after a while, I realized that I was waiting for the right partner. And Sharon? She just wasn't it." Steve made the mistake of looking up at Bucky, his clear blue eyes finding Bucky's stormy ones.

Under any other circumstances, Steve would have noticed it. He would have noticed the way Bucky's eyes that were searching Steve's own, found what they were looking for. He would have noticed the way Bucky's eyes widened even the slightest. He would have noticed the way Bucky's face straightened out, the way his eyebrows twitched.

In hindsight, Steve would kick himself for it.

He would kick himself for not noticing that Bucky had just realized something.

Something important.

* * *

There you have it! This chapter made me happy to write xD

Well, please let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading this far!

See you again next week!


	24. Chapter 24

Hey there everyone! It's Wednesday again! It's crazy how quickly time flies! I hope you all had a wonderful week and if you didn't, I hope the upcoming chapter can at least put a smile on your face!  
Thank you so much for your reviews on the previous chapter! It really means a lot to me!

Well then, without further ado: Ladies and gentlemen- Chapter 24!

* * *

 **Chapter 24**

Sam had to learn to say no. Just no. He should have told Bucky that no, he was going on a date with the nice lady from the reception desk at the police station and that he did not in fact, have time to drive Bucky somewhere without Steve's knowledge. He should have just said no.

But… Sam had said yes. Sam had cancelled his plans with that gorgeous lady, probably lost any chance he had with her and why? Because Bucky was regaining his independence but not enough to take the bloody subway. As if that wasn't bad enough, the rational part of Sam's brain was telling him that doing this behind Steve's back was going to come back to haunt him eventually. That, and of course, this was the first time Bucky was going anywhere without Steve or his service dog and although Bucky was going to a place he knew, Sam still worried. That was another thing Sam should stop doing.

Sam didn't even know exactly how Bucky had managed to convince Steve to go to Clint's farm for the day and fetch Flake while Bucky 'stayed home' but Sam was too annoyed to even consider answering that question.

Sam sighed, killing the engine and leaning back in his leather seat, peering out the window at the picturesque house they had parked in front of. He should talk Bucky out of this, really, he should. But if one wanted to be best friends with Steve Rogers, one had to be at least half as stubborn as him so Sam didn't even try to argue with Bucky. He wasn't going to let himself get dragged into that as well.  
His focus shifted from the house to Bucky who hadn't said a word since they'd left Steve and Bucky's apartment. It would give Sam a reason to worry were Bucky not despondent to anyone but Steve. Still, it was obvious that there was something on Bucky's mind, weighing heavily on him. What could possibly be so bad that Bucky couldn't talk to Steve about it? Sam shelved those thoughts for the ride home, watching the frown on Bucky's face.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." Sam offered, "We can get Steve and-."

"No." Bucky cut him off, keeping his stormy eyes on the house. Sam's fingers tightened around the steering wheel so strongly that his knuckles turned white.

"Well you have my number. If you wanna leave, just give me a call. Got… no plans for the afternoon." He made sure to make the last part sound as bitter as possible but he doubted that Bucky picked up on that. It wasn't as though Bucky was inapt at picking up subtle nuances in people's voice, he was extremely good at it in fact, but it was rather that he was far too wrapped up in his own mind and his own thoughts. It was one of those instances where one might think that there wasn't much going on inside of Bucky. Thinking that couldn't be more wrong- his mind was racing, achingly so, his heart beating a little faster than was usual for him, his muscles itching with anxiety.

Bucky replied with a monotonous "Okay" before getting out of the car and slamming the door shut with more force than was necessary. Sam was almost tempted to get out and check whether Bucky had left handprints on the door with his left hand.

"Sure Bucky, it's a pleasure to drive you, really." Sam muttered darkly, glaring down at his black leather steering wheel, "I bet she ain't even gonna call me after I cancelled on her." And with that and a pout, Sam turned on the engine, revving it for good measure before pulling off the curb to go find himself a coffee shop that sold croissants.

Bucky took a deep breath, taking in the colourful smell of an arrangement of different flowers all planted in an array of flowerbeds surrounding the stone path that lead up to the porch. He remembered the smells encasing the property. He remembered the house, the way the doorbell sounded, the way the house smelt inside. He remembered the woman the house belonged to, knew that she always smelt of roses and loved baking brownies. He remembered all the many birthdays celebrated at this very house, remembered the countless summer vacations spent roughhousing in the backyard. He remembered a frail boy with a deep red blush, a deep, warm laugh, messy golden blond hair shimmering in the sun…

He remembered everything.

He raised his eyes to the clear blue sky, blinking against the hot June sun that was beating down on New York. Maybe she was out in the garden? He brushed his metal hand through his brown hair, worrying his fringe that he had so carefully styled that morning with the hair wax that Steve sometimes used.

He was nervous.

He wasn't good at functioning when Steve wasn't around. Out of helplessness, he wanted to switch back to old Hydra protocols that would tell him how to behave but he was astonished to find that they were out of reach, like a word that was on the tip of his tongue but amiss from his mind.

Bucky smiled lightly.

After a beat, he made his way past the white picket fence and towards the porch with heavy footsteps, left shoulder tilting a little with every step. Once he'd made quick work of the few steps leading up to the porch, hesitated. The last time she had seen him, he had hardly been a person. The broken shell he had been last time was nothing like the man he was now. Sure, he was still confused about a lot of things, still searching for missing fragments of memories and trying to find his place in a world of which he had missed four years but he was stable, able to make his own decisions, choose his own path. He knew who he was now and was now finally able to explore the ways the world related to him, where he belonged in this new reality of his. A twist of excitement burst through his thoughts and he lifted his eyes to the door. This was the first time she was seeing _him_ again. This was the first time he was seeing her again. Consciously; without fear or uncertainty.

Peggy had hung a ring of flowers on the door, making her house look even more welcoming. He wanted to reach out and touch the flowers, see if they were real but he didn't, afraid he might damage the fragile white and yellow petals. Instead, his finger pushed down on the doorbell that chimed indoors. He took a step back, fiddling with the hem of his short-sleeved black t-shirt while he waited for her to answer the door.

"Give me a moment!" Her voice enveloped Bucky in a feeling of contentment, flushing his anxiety out of his body for the time being and instead, filling him with a sense of anticipation.

He had missed her.

He blinked back to attention when the door was opened to reveal Peggy in a beautiful blue flower dress that flowed loosely around her sturdy legs, ending at her bony ankles. She was bare feet, her toenails painted a striking red that clashed a little with the azure blue of her dress. Her shoulders were exposed, showing skin made leathery by the sun and by time. She was bonier than Bucky remembered and he was struck by the fact that he had not only missed four years of Steve's life, but of Peggy's as well. This thought brought forth a sense of gratitude that she was still alive, still around to help him, that she had been there to help Steve when Bucky hadn't been.

He snapped back to reality, finding Peggy watching him with uncertainty. She was smiling, as was normal for the cheery woman but her eyes were withdrawn, her body language hesitant. She was still standing in the doorway, her hand still resting on the white door.

"Bucky?" She asked him quietly, hopefully, head tilting to the side curiously when his mouth twisted into a charming smirk, much like the one he used to wear all the time.

"Hey there Peggy." He greeted her bashfully. Meanwhile, his mind was racing through his memories, fervently comparing the Peggy from his memories to the one standing in front of him. He was finally in full control of his mind and in possession of all his memories concerning Peggy Carter. Still, there were numerous small details that were new: wrinkles that hadn't been there before, a certain bend to her back that spoke of exhaustion and old age. Her eyes though… they had stayed the same; a warm chocolate brown that reminded him of hot chocolate and marshmallows on a cold Sunday afternoon with Steve and Peggy, watching those old black and white films from when Peggy was young.

The smile on Peggy's face was nothing short of radiant, making the day a little brighter despite the presence of the ever-scorching sun. The hesitant look on her face yielded, making way for a short burst of sadness that was quickly replaced by a look of compassion and love. She opened her petit arms, offering a hug that Bucky accepted readily, wrapping his strong arms around the small woman. He rested his head on her knobby shoulder, enjoying her warmth against his stubbly cheek. She still smelt of roses, just like she had all those many years ago.

"It's good to have you back Bucky." Her arms tightened around him and a heavy sigh escaped him.

"It's good to be back Peggy. I missed you." He allowed his arms to tighten around her, paying extra attention to not hurting her- he was a lot stronger now than he was before Hydra and he knew that she had become more fragile in his absence.

"Never did a day go by where I did not miss you." She whispered, burying her face in his chest, pushing her fingertips into the muscles on his back weakly, letting herself cling for a moment.

"Well… come on in." She cleared her throat, brushing a rebellious grey stand out of her face before straightening up and taking a step back to smile at him again. She rested her hand on his cheek for a moment, stroking her thumb across his cheekbone before twirling around cheerfully and leading the way inside.

Bucky looked over his shoulder at the front garden, at the empty road, at the space Steve would usually have occupied.

He frowned, walking inside and closing the door behind him.

* * *

Bucky peered down at the orange liquid in the glass around which his hands were wrapped. If he looked carefully, he could see fruit pulp floating around the freshly squeezed orange juice. He listened to the sounds Peggy made in the kitchen while preparing herself a cup of tea.

She used to drink tea even when Steve and Bucky would lie on the lawn, unable to move from exhaustion due to the temperatures during summer. Maybe it was a thing English people did. Bucky didn't know.

He jumped when Peggy put her cup down on the coffee table. His head snapped up to look at her, immediately registering the apologetic look she was giving him.

"Should I have said something before entering the room?" She asked him worriedly. He shook his head vehemently.

"I was just lost in thought, that's all."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you've been lost in thought from the moment I opened the door, probably even before that." She smiled softly when Bucky sighed in resignation. He nodded. Peggy settled down in the armchair adjacent to the couch Bucky had settled down on. The white couch was too soft, making Bucky feel uneasy but he tried to ignore it, tried not to fidget.

"What did you come here to talk about?" She encouraged him gently stirring the tea in her cup in rhythmic circles, the movement catching Bucky's eyes. He watched the silver spoon for a moment, transfixed by the swirl of the acorn-brown tea.

"What was I like to Steve before… you know?"

Peggy set her porcelain cup down on the glass table carefully before sitting back in her armchair, considering Bucky for a moment.  
He looked anxious to know the answer, a buzz running through his body that animated his right leg to bounce up and down. It was a habit very unlike Bucky. Usually he was very sure of himself and quick-witted, his body reflected just that. Even during his first visit a few months prior, Bucky had had a type of surety about him. His body had been still and solid, a force to be reckonned with. The Bucky sitting in front of Peggy this time around though, seemed confused, like he was dizzy and disorientated. His body language was constantly shifting like a wave being tossed around in the ocean. His shoulders were rounded, like he was trying to make himself look smaller than he was, which, considering his size was quite a feat. When Peggy tried to find his eyes, he averted them, looking at his hands instead while still risking brief glances at Peggy, making the impression of a scared child, waiting to be scolded.  
She was in two minds about answering his question straight away. She would much rather sit down next to him and draw him into a hug to try and keep him together. She wanted to reassure him that everything was alright, that whatever was unsettling him, wasn't as bad as he might think it was. Still, Bucky looked desperate and she still didn't know his limits so she chose to trust Bucky's own judgement.

"You were always right at his side." She began fondly after a long pause, speaking slowly so that Bucky could follow at his own pace "You helped him wherever you could, even when he didn't want the help. You were the kind of friend that would make fun of Steve but if anyone else did, you would make sure to teach them a lesson. Steve knew that your teasing wasn't meant seriously and he appreciate it coming from you. You knew his limits and knew how far you could push him, always encouraging him to go beyond what everyone else expected of him." Bucky nodded, retreating into his mind, searching for the memories associated with the things that Peggy was telling him. He was thrilled to find that most of the memories he was looking for were there, whole and vivid.

"The two of you were two halves of one whole. Well, that was the impression that I always got. You were his voice of reason while he was yours. You made up for his lack of strength and he was the calm to your storm."

"He loved art and I loved science." Bucky continued, lost in the memories that were popping up like daisies in spring, "I helped him with school, with maths and science and he taught me how to see in colours."

"Bucky?" He blinked, coming back to reality, to Peggy's living room that smelt of freshly brewed tea and flowers.

"Yeah?"

"What is this really about?"

Bucky hesitated, working his jaw uneasily while he considered whether or not he should really tell Peggy about what had been bothering him. Her eyes were trained on his, searching them for the emotions that Bucky was so desperately trying to snuff out. He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"We spoke about the girl he dated while I was… with Hydra…" He paused, confusion flashing across his features while he struggled to find the words to express his jumbled-up thoughts, "He told me he was waiting for the right partner and when he looked at me… I could have sworn that… I thought that…"

"You thought that he meant you?"

"I don't know _what_ I thought." Bucky admitted agitatedly. His body shifted and he got up, ready to retreat but not knowing where to go. His mind was doing backflips, unable to comprehend what he was thinking, thoughts crashing together violently in a cascade of different emotions that threatened to cripple him.

"Calm down James!" Peggy's steady voice broke through his thoughts and he froze. Bucky's eyes tracked her movement when she got up and wrapped her arms around him firmly in a grounding embrace that put his scattered pieces back together.  
The longer she held him like that, the calmer his mind got, his body stilling eventually.

"I'm sorry." Bucky muttered against the top of her head quietly.

"Everything will be alright Bucky." Peggy promised him, pressing a kiss to his right shoulder reassuringly, "Now…" She pulled out of the hug slowly, glancing over at the glass of orange juice that Bucky had set down on the coffee table. Bucky followed her glance, realizing only then that his throat was bone dry. "Tell me everything. Slowly. One thought at a time."

"I know I just-."

"One thought at a time." She repeated slowly, "It would be mildly insulting if you assume that I would judge you for anything you have to say to me." She added and Bucky nodded, taking a seat again. There was a long moment of silence in which Peggy shifted her attention back to her tea to give Bucky some time to think while Bucky downed the rest of the orange juice in an attempt to get his throat to feel anything but parched.

"All I know is that I…" Bucky hesitated, clenching and unclenching his jaw for a moment before forcing out the words that were hovering in his mind, "I wanted it to be me. I don't want him to go off with some gal Peggy… Is that wrong? I don't know what's right and wrong anymore, not without Steve." He bowed his head slowly, staring back down at his hands again as his own words began sinking in.

"That's not wrong Bucky." Peggy assured him gently, "Want to go on?"

He nodded slowly, gathering the courage to look up at Peggy again.

This wasn't like all those girls he dated back when he still knew how to flirt. This was different, deeper, scarier. He could handle going on a date with some girl but this? He had no idea how to deal with _this-_ whatever it was- not on his own, not in the state he was in.

Still, despite Steve not being an option to talk to about this, he yearned to be able to ask Steve about it anyway, to lean into him and feel that same sense of security that he would always get from being close to Steve but the mere thought of actually telling Steve about what was going on in his mind, terrified Bucky more than most other things ever had.

It felt strange to consider talking about Steve the way he was about to. Steve was his best friend, his brother but now Bucky was slowly starting to realize that above all else, Steve had always been a lot more than what Bucky had originally thought.

"It was just him and me," Bucky went on in a quiet, unsure voice, eyes seeming distant, "I want it to stay that way. I know I don't deserve him, he's too damn good for this world anyway, but I wanna make sure he's happy. Sometimes when he smiles at me, his smile looks different, brighter than usual. Thinking that he might just smile at someone else like that… it…" Bucky let out a heavy breath through his nose, bowing his head helplessly when he failed to put his thoughts into words.

"Bucky…" Peggy shifted in her seat, folding her leg over the other one slowly, "May I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Are you even remotely aware of how much that man cares about you?"

* * *

"Just give me a second Flake!" Steve laughed, digging through his leather jacket for the apartment key while the German Shephard shoved her nose at the door impatiently. She was ecstatic to be back home and to return to her duty as Bucky's Service Dog. Steve himself was a little relieved that she was back as well, knowing that Flake was there to do what Steve couldn't- stop the nightmares before they got out of control. He made a triumphant little noise when his hand closed around the key and pulled it out of the inside pocket. Flake's tail began wagging uncontrollably when Steve pushed the key into the lock and once again, she nose-butted the door in hopes that it would give way. Once the lock was open and the door handle was pushed down, the white ball of fur squeezed her way through the narrow crack before Steve could even open the door properly. Steve cringed when he heard her shoulder blades and hips bump against the wooden door and doorframe but the dog didn't seem at all concerned by the rough contact.

"Anyone who says dogs need four legs to move normally, hasn't seen this dog." Steve muttered, grinning like an idiot when he saw that Flake was already completely out of sight, obviously looking for Bucky.  
Before Steve had even fully registered the smell of cooking food, his stomach did, announcing itself with a low and hungry growl that made Steve's stomach feel utterly hollow. He rid himself of his boots and jacket quickly before taking the corner to the kitchen where Flake was shoving herself at a smiling Bucky.

"Welcome home Stevie." Bucky abandoned his task of petting Flake for a moment to grin at Steve. Bucky's smile was earnest, alight with happiness at seeing Steve and it made the blonde's heart skip a beat.

"Thanks Buck." Steve answered with a grin that matched Bucky's, sauntering over to the oven to see what was being prepared.

"Spaghetti and meatballs?" Steve's eyes lit up immediately and he licked his lips, feeling his stomach want to growl again in anticipation of the meal, "Buck I love spaghetti and meatballs!"

"I know." Bucky checked the noodles briefly before turning away from the stove to face Steve, smirk in place and eyes alight with amusement, "It's all you ever wanted me to make after I made it for you that one winter when the fever hit you bad."

"Yeah I remember that." Steve mumbled reminiscently, his face softening and turning a little red around the cheeks. He took a step back, leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen and crossing his muscular arms across his chest. "It was the best thing I'd ever tasted!" He remarked, chuckling when Bucky bit his lip for a moment.

"C'mon Stevie they ain't nothing special." Bucky tried to wave off the compliment. "Sides, all you've been doing is cooking for me, thought I might as well get off my lazy ass and return the favour."

"Is that why you wanted me to go to Clint's?" Steve asked him with a tilt of his head, "So you could cook for me?"

"O'course I wanted to cook for you!" Bucky muttered nervously, avoided a direct answer, knowing that when it came down to it, he would never forgive himself for lying to Steve.

"Well, thanks." Steve smiled, taking a step to stand next to Bucky to watch the noodles cook, "This… this is really nice Buck." He admitted earnestly, leaning into Bucky's side comfortably, enjoying the way Bucky leant towards Steve too, probably even without realizing that he was doing it.

"It's the least I can do for my best man." Bucky replied casually, "It's almost done if you wanna lay the table already?"

"Or we could eat on the couch and watch Lady and the Tramp." Steve suggested.  
Bucky gawked at him for a whole two seconds before bursting out laughing, almost dropping the metal spoon he had been using to poke at the spaghetti occasionally.

"Are you kidding me?" Bucky cackled.

"You remember that too?" Steve grinned, especially when Bucky had to lean against the counter to stay upright.

"Steve, you were sick for two weeks! If I had known that making spaghetti and meatballs for you would put you into a Lady and the Tramp mood, I would never have cooked it for you!" He paused, his laughter dying down into a happy chuckle, "How many times did we watch it those two weeks? Five, six times?"

"Probably." Steve agreed, smiling to himself at the memory. They shared a moment of content silence before Bucky leant away from Steve to tend to the noodles again, fishing one out of the seething liquid to taste it. "Be done in five minutes, punk, get Netflix up."

"Great! You're the best Buck!" Steve cheered, turning red in the face and lulling back and forth on the balls of his feet with childlike excitement.

"Yeah, yeah I know." Bucky shook his head, rolling his eyes dramatically, "Now how 'bout you hurry up before I change my mind?"

"Do you want some help with…?" Steve stalled, "Do we need something to drink with that? What do you want to drink?" His mouth snapped closed when Bucky arched his eyebrow at him, nodding towards the TV in an exaggerated gesture, "Oh… okay movie. Right. I'll just go and… get that started up…" Steve waved his hands at the TV awkwardly before twirling around on his heel and crossing the living area in a few large strides.  
Flake had taken up most of the couch by then, having retreated when she realized that she didn't really stand a chance against Steve when it came to who got the most attention from Bucky.

Steve rushed around the living area with all the little elegance his large body possessed, getting the TV on, opening Netflix and pulling out cushions from underneath a very stubborn Flake to make the couch comfortable for the three of them. He made sure to keep most of the cushions to himself though, remembering that Bucky preferred a harder bed, saying that a soft bed made him feel uneasy, like he was on a cloud that he was only second away from sinking through. Steve figured that couches may fall into a similar category as beds.

Steve had already settled down to the left of Flake with one hand stroking her head idly when Bucky brought over two bowels filled to the brim with steaming spaghetti covered in a tomato-based sauce, each dish topped off with an obscene amount of homemade meatballs. Steve felt his mouth begin to water at the sight. "It's just like you used to make it!" Steve remarked fondly.

"D'ya know why you like it so much?" Bucky asked him quietly while he settled down next to Steve, knee brushing against Steve's gently.

"Besides the fact that you can obviosly cook well?" Steve offered and Bucky chuckled, shoving at Steve's shoulder gently.

"Your ma taught me how to make it." Bucky said.

"Wait... what?"

"I asked your ma to show me how to make it after you told me it was your favourite meal."

Steve straightened, eyes widening and face evening out in surprise. Bucky had….? How come Steve didn't know about this?

"You did that for me?"

"Guess I did." Bucky bowed his head, looking over at the two meals on the wooden coffee table in an attempt to hide his fluster.

"That was real swell of you Buck." Steve muttered breathlessly. Steve couldn't quite believe it. He couldn't believe that Bucky, at the time thirteen years of age, had gone to Steve's mother and asked her to teach him how to cook Steve's favourite meal because… well… what reason had Bucky had?

He'd learnt to cook a lot more than just Spaghetti with meatballs in the meantime so why this meal? Why now?

Despite the many questions running through Steve's mind, he caught himself smiling at the food that was handed to him by Bucky. He settled the bowel in his lap carefully before shifting closer to Bucky, leaning into him more than he had ever dared to. To Steve's surprise, Bucky responded by shifting to allow Steve to sit even closer, shifting his right foot to push it underneath Steve's left leg.

"Wanna start that movie Stevie?" Bucky asked him quietly, leaning his head against Steve's for a wonderful yet brief moment.

"Sure… Oh and Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for this. I really appreciate it."

"Anything for you Stevie."

The smile Bucky got in response was the very smile he had described to Peggy earlier that day and much in the way it always did, it made Bucky feel light-headed.

If he could make Steve smile like that every day, then maybe it would be enough. His hands had done nothing but destroy ever since he'd enrolled in the army and he had been afraid that it had become all he'd ever be able to do.

This though, making Steve smile, making him _happy,_ it felt like redemption.

It felt like love.

And if Steve smiled at him like that every day, then Bucky thought it would be enough to make him whole again.

* * *

Boom! There you go~ Omg please let me know what you thought of this chapter! It's a slow burn I know and believe me, it's killing me as much as it is killing you! xD  
Still, I hope you'll stick with me and these two dorks!

See you guys next week!


	25. Chapter 25

Hey everyone! So it's Wednesday again (Time flies- seriously!) so here you have the new chapter of Remembering!  
Thank you so, so much for your reviews on the last chapter! They made me sooo happy!  
Well, without further ado- please enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 25**

Sam really should have said no. He should have just said no.

He was sitting across from Steve at one of his favourite cafés, positively mutilating his croissant out of nervousness. Steve had insisted on treating Sam for breakfast as a thank you for being such a good friend and all Sam could think about was how he had helped Bucky, the man Steve was secretly-not-so-secretly pining for, go behind the blonde's back to visit someone.

On his drive home, Sam had decided that it was most probably a pretty big deal when Bucky didn't feel like he could talk to Steve about something, this fact making Sam even more nervous about what exactly he had become the accomplice of. What made this all the much worse for Sam was the fact that Steve kept smiling at him with that deeply earnest gratitude that made him look like a happy Golden Retriever and it was _killing_ Sam.

"Are you still gonna eat that?" Steve gestured to Sam's poor croissant, laughing lightly.

"Uh sure." Sam muttered, "They taste better if you take the top layer off, didn't you know that?" Steve gave him a sceptical look, scrutinizing the hardly recognizable croissant for a moment before shrugging, returning his attention to his egg and tomato sandwich and taking a larger bite than was strictly considered healthy.

Sam had almostmanaged to convince himself that he was off the hook when Steve's face suddenly lit up and he leant onto the table, towards Sam, giving him his undivided, incredibly unnerving attention. "So how did it go?"

"How did what go?" Sam croaked.

"Oh come on Sam!" Steve rolled his eyes with a gentle smile, "Your _date_! What else?"

Sam's mouth opened and closed a few times, his eyes widening in panic when he found that his mind was shutting down at the _worst_ of times! The longer Sam stared at Steve helplessly, the more Steve's look of excitement died down, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Still, his smile was still there, still encouraging and understanding and it made Sam want to get up and leave, punch Bucky in the face and hope that the ex-assassin hospitalized him.

"Did it go badly?" Steve's face shifted to display a stifling amount of concern, the line between his eyebrows becoming increasingly pronounced the longer he tried to read Sam's facial expression.

"Sam what happened?"

"There was no date!" Sam blurted out, slapping his hands over his mouth when he realized that he'd just said that out loud. He watched in horror as Steve looked confused all over again, the gentle pout on his face demanding an explanation silently. "I uh… I had to cancel." Sam admitted, ripping a whole chunk off his croissant before picking at that mercilessly with shaking fingers.

"Did something happen at the VA?" Steve enquired, "Why didn't you call me? I could have helped and-."

"I wasn't allowed to call you." Sam interjected, defeat washing over his entire body like some sort of cursed plague. Who was he kidding? It was practically humanly impossible to lie to Steve unless one was called Nick Fury.

Now Steve looked defensive, his chin jutting out in an old habit of defiance.

"Okay so why's that?" He asked Sam slowly, his eyes hardening with agitation.

Sam really, really shouldn't have said yes to helping a 260lbs ex-assassin wanting to do something behind his best friend's back. Saying no really wasn't that difficult. It was one word Sam! One word!

But he had said yes and the look of displeasure on Steve's face let Sam know that he wasn't about to get out of any of this unscathed. Sam bowed his head, staring down at the table top ashamedly.

"He didn't want me to." He mumbled quietly.

"Who?"

"Bucky."

"Bucky?" Steve leant back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest with a frown, "What does Bucky have to do with any of this?"

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of nose briefly before sitting up straighter and looking Steve straight in the eye. He had to tell Steve the truth. Steve deserved to know, regardless of how much this might hurt him. "Bucky wanted to go somewhere but he didn't want you to know. He convinced you to go to Clint's because he didn't want you coming with him."

"Oh."

Steve's body sagged together visibly and his face dropped, all the fire and fight leaving him in one quick swoop. Sam wanted to say something, anything to wipe the broken look off of Steve's face but he knew that there was nothing he could do to fix things. He had just told Steve that Bucky had done something behind Steve's back because he didn't want Steve around for it. He knew exactly how much that would hurt Steve and the broken look on Steve's face was nothing but an echo of the pain he was actually feeling inside.

"Well, that's great for Buck!" A heart-breaking grin spread across Steve's pale face. It didn't reach his eyes and it in no way conveyed what Steve might want it to. "I'm so glad he's getting more independent! Did he have a good time?"

"I don't know." Sam admitted hoarsely, fingers moving away from the remains of his croissant to clutch onto the hem of his jeans pockets, "All he wanted was for me to drop him off. The house seemed kind of familiar but I guess I was just imagining it. He told me he knew the woman that lived there and said he wanted to talk to her alone."

"A woman?" Steve swallowed, feeling his stomach twist because _c'mon Stevie there are so many pretty girls out there! I'm sure you'll find one that thinks you're swell! Hey but you gotta let me be your best man at the big wedding then alright?_

Steve felt sick.

Had Bucky decided to reconnect with one of the woman he had dated before leaving with the military? Was this the path he had chosen for himself? Was Bucky finally ready to move past Steve? How long would it take before he moved in with her? Was he going to come visit Steve or was he going to disappear completely? Steve zoned back in abruptly when his eyes began to burn with pending tears and he noticed Sam giving him a worried and endlessly apologetic frown. "Steve I-."

"No, it's fine!" Steve waved it off with a forced laugh, "Everything's fine! I'm really happy for him." Steve swallowed, nodding numbly, "This is great. This is what we wanted. This is what we were aiming for all along."

* * *

It took a very long time for Steve to find his way back home. He had met Sam for breakfast in the morning and it was now well past midday. The summer heat had simmered down a little and the sun was casting darker shadows, a herald of the upcoming dusk.  
If one were to ask Steve what he had done all day, he probably wouldn't really be able to tell you. He'd been in too many coffee shops to count, had drank far too many sugary coffees to be healthy and he hadn't had a single thing to eat since breakfast. Somewhere between all his coffee stops, he had settled down in a park close to home, under a tree to do some people-watching. Every couple he saw rammed a dagger into his heart and he jumped every time he saw someone that looked even remotely similar to Bucky. Throughout the entire day, Steve had fought off his thoughts about which of Bucky's many dates had caught his eye enough to keep him interested even after all this time. He didn't want to think about her, didn't want to think about what she must mean to Bucky if he _still_ cared about her enough to go visit her.

By the time he arrived at his front door, he felt drained in a way that he hadn't in a very long time. He had resigned himself to the reality of the situation, wanting nothing more than to wrap himself up in his blanket and sleep the rest of his life away. Bucky was straight, after all, had always been chasing skirts, had always loved plump red lips and curves. Why would the past events have changed that?

Steve leant his head against the door, chastising himself mentally, knowing that he should be happy. He should be glad that Bucky was returning to old habits, trying to pick up where he left off, crafting his own path.

But Steve wasn't happy. _Couldn't_ be happy and it was incredibly selfish.

But he didn't care.

He didn't care that he was being selfish, wanting Bucky for himself because although Steve readily sacrificed almost everything for his country, for his friends and family, Bucky was one thing Steve would not, under any circumstances, surrender if he had anything to say about it.

And yet… he wanted Bucky to be happy and if Bucky was happy with a girl with beautiful lips and a body as beautiful as Bucky's, what was Steve to do?

So, he would keep his selfish thoughts to himself until they suffocated him.

He knew that he should open the door and go inside but he had barely managed to drag himself up the stairs to their apartment. A whimper escaped him and he pinched his eyes closed as tightly as he could. He had managed to keep his tears at bay all day, he was not going to let them best him now.

Without warning, the door was opened and Steve fell forward numbly, landing against something firm and warm. Whatever it was, it seemed to have a heartbeat. A heartbeat that was beating too fast.

"For the love of God Steve where the hell have you been all day?!" Two arms wrapped around him, leading him to the couch while three paws padded against the wooden floor next to him. Steve kept his eyes on the floor, even while being gently let down onto the couch, knowing that if he looked at Bucky now, he'd break.

"What happened to you? Stevie? Hey buddy, talk to me." A warm hand was placed underneath Steve's chin to lift his head up but Steve pushed down, against the pressure until the hand was removed from his skin. Bucky stayed silent then, metal hand still resting on Steve's shoulder helplessly.  
Steve listened to Bucky's loud breaths, hearing that Bucky was clearly distressed.

"I tried to call you." Bucky whispered, "You didn't answer your phone all day. I was worried."

Steve wanted to laugh but he stopped himself by biting down on his tongue until the urge was gone. He knew he should probably say something but he had no words to describe what he was feeling, nothing to say to Bucky.

After all these many, many years, seeing Bucky with a woman hadn't become any easier for Steve. In fact, it had become much more difficult, heart wrenchingly painful.

After another short pause, an old instinct of Bucky's seemed to kick in. Steve sat still while Bucky slowly began inspecting Steve, starting with his hands. His flesh hand brushed over Steve's knuckles, checking for bruising until moving on to his wrists, arms, shoulders and his legs. The touch was horribly familiar and comforting although Steve wanted nothing more than to feel uncomfortable under Bucky's hands but he never did, never would. When Bucky got to Steve's collarbones and moved to inspect his neck, Steve closed his eyes, letting Bucky manoeuvre Steve's head whichever way he needed it. Steve almost flinched when cold metal came into contact with his cheekbone, the smooth mechanic thumb brushing over the skin just below Steve's eye so gently that Steve hardly felt it. If he weren't so distraught, Steve might have been surprised by how gentle Bucky could be with his metal hand, how well calibrated the machine must be.

"C'mon let me see those baby blues." Bucky coaxed him gently, lifting his right hand to frame Steve's face, "What's gotten you upset doll?"

Steve's eyes flew open in the same moment that Bucky's eyes widened, both realizing what Bucky had just said. Steve's breath stuttered in his throat and his heart did a traitorous jump at the nickname- the nickname Bucky had used when talking to the girls he had dated.

"I ain't one of your girls Buck." Steve muttered darkly, desperate to hide his fluster, to prevent a blush. Bucky nodded immediately, his eyes darting slightly, looking for something to look at that wouldn't be as unnerving as the raw emotion contained in Steve's eyes.

"I know you ain't Stevie." Bucky stuttered apologetically, letting his hands drop from Steve's face, "God of course I know that!" He added, shaking his head in confusion.

"Then don't bloody treat me like one Buck, it ain't funny."

"Steve…" Bucky frowned, backing away from Steve a little, looking at Steve the way he would look at a stranger. If Steve said that that didn't hurt, he'd be lying. "What's… what happened today?"

"It's nothing." Steve deflected, turning his head to hide his face from Bucky.

"Clearly it ain't nothing Stevie." Bucky stressed. His body was becoming increasingly tense, his mind searching through old memories to find a way to resolve the situation, to help Steve. The last time Bucky could remember seeing Steve like this was when Betty White had told him that she wasn't interested in him, back in fifth grade.

"Is this about a girl?" Bucky tried tentatively. The reaction he got from Steve was far removed from the one he was expecting: Steve's face straightened out into a look of utter disbelief and anger before the blond got up and pushed past Bucky and Flake forcefully, storming to the bathroom like a sulking child, desperate to escape the situation.

Bucky knew that it would probably be better to leave Steve to himself but he _couldn't_.

He didn't know whether it was an old habit he had forgotten about or something that Hydra had instilled in him, but the thought of Steve upset and angry and Bucky not close to him to make things better made Bucky physically ache. And so, he hurriedly told Flake to stay before rushing after Steve, just in time to shove his left arm between the door and the frame before Steve could slam the bathroom door in his face. Steve made a frustrated sound, glaring at Bucky's metal hand before retreating away from the door to sit on the rim of the bathtub, eyes downcast and knuckles white from grasping onto the rim of the tub.

He shouldn't have left it this long. Steve should have texted Bucky immediately, asked him to meet him somewhere and just talk it out. This way, his emotions had been building up all day, itching for a release that had now presented itself in form of the man who had inadvertently caused Steve pain. He didn't even _want_ to be angry! It was unlike him to be angry at Bucky and the fact that he _was_ angry at his best friend probably upset Steve more than the initial catalyser did.

Bucky sighed heavily, looking around the bathroom in a gesture of helplessness before his eyes settled on the hunched over figure of his best friend. He moved to kneel in front of Steve on the floor, resting one hand on each of Steve's knees.

"You know you can talk to me about anything Stevie." Bucky promised him, feeling a pang of guilt surge through him when he realized that Steve felt the same way about him and that he had still gone to Peggy instead of Steve.

"When were you gonna tell me?" Steve asked him, voice hollow and yet somehow simultaneously drenched in pain.

"When was I gonna tell you what?" Bucky replied confusedly, leaning closer to Steve in order to see his face. Steve's beautiful blue eyes were uncharacteristically dull and it scared Bucky.

"I'm glad that things are returning to normal for you, that you're gonna find yourself a nice girl and everything but you could have… you could have told me."

"Told you _what_ Steve?!" Bucky exclaimed exasperatedly, hands tightening on Steve's knees.

Steve lifted his head slowly, sad eyes managing to conjure up a half-hearted glare that he directed at Bucky mercilessly. After all this; after Steve had made it clear that he saw through Bucky's lie, Bucky _still_ insisted on denying it? Was Steve worth that little to Bucky now? That he could just lie to Steve's face like it was nothing?

"Your girl Buck!" Steve yelled, getting up and stepping around Bucky while the latter scrambled to get up.

"Girl?"

"Yeah your _girl_ Bucky!" All the emotions that Steve had fought off during the day came back with a vengeance, leaving him feeling winded, dizzy and numb. Instead of leaving the bathroom like he had planned to, he turned away from the closed door to face Bucky again, resolutely ignoring the fact that the look on Bucky's face was earnest and that Steve _knew_ that Bucky wasn't lying. His heart did; but his brain was stubborn and it was doing a good job of convincing Steve of the opposite.

"You might not remember" Steve went on angrily, "but I remember how you were always going on one date after the next! Back then though, you at least told me about it. Damn you told me _all_ about it didn't ya? But this time… you just go behind my back and pretend like nothing happened? If you ask me, you can go out with whoever you want Bucky!" No. No that was a lie. "But the least you could do is tell me! I thought we told each other everything!"

"I didn't say anything 'cause there's nothing to tell you Stevie!" Bucky matched Steve's loud tone, feeling himself come apart at the edges. He wanted to give Steve the answer he obviously yearned for but he didn't know what Steve was talking about! Who was this girl Steve was talking about? When was he supposed to have visited her? Had he forgotten something again? Was there something important he should know? Something that he had forgotten that Steve was now upset about?

Steve was angry at _him_. Steve was this upset _because_ of him. Steve's eyes were shimmering with tears _because_ of him.

He'd hurt Steve.

He had failed. He was a bad soldier, a bad weap-. No... No! He was no soldier! He was no weapon! Not anymore! He was James Buchanan Barnes! Bucky Barnes. _Steve's_ Bucky Barnes!

Bucky bowed his head, stepping away from Steve instinctively until the back of his legs touched the rim of the bathtub. He clenched his hands at his sides, the metal plates shifting in a way that made the skin on Bucky's left shoulder crawl. Bucky wanted to take a step closer to Steve again but as soon as his thoughts translated into his body language, Steve stiffened, sending Bucky a clear message of unwillingness to be close to him.

Sputnik.

Bucky wanted Steve to say it so, so badly. He wanted Steve to trigger him into shutting down, to let him escape the panic gripping at his mind with ice cold fingers. He didn't want to be in this situation, didn't want to be confronted with the fact that he had once again hurt Steve. If he knew what he had done wrong, he could apologize, promise never to do it again, make things better but as things were? He was rendered helpless and on the receiving end of Steve's anger that felt a lot more like pain than actual anger. He'd seen Steve angry before, this was different though: there was no fire in his eyes, no angry blush on his cheeks. He looked resigned, hurt and broken, fighting with what energy he had left before giving up completely.

Bucky didn't know what to do.

His body itched, his metal arm begging to destroy. His mind was uncomfortably empty and his stomach was filled with violent waves of anxiety that made him want to throw up.

Was he losing Steve? Why wouldn't Steve let him come closer? He wanted to be close to Steve. He wanted to hold him and promise him that whatever Steve thought, that there was no girl, that it was only ever him. His eyes shot to his left but he quickly realized that he had told Flake to stay in the living room.

"Steve…" Bucky begged, voice cracking on the last vowel. He wanted to reach out to Steve, wanted to feel at least a little closer to him but he knew that he wouldn't survive Steve backing away from him again.

"What… what girl?" Bucky's face twisted in confusion and he bit his lip, an old tick that he had developed in school when he was thinking.

In that moment, Steve's heart won.

The lip-chewing had been something that Bucky had done unknowingly; it was also something Steve had never actually told him about. The fact that Bucky was chewing his lip, showed Steve that he was, just as Steve had suspected, completely clueless as to who this girl was supposed to be.

The incredibly amounts of pain flushed out of Steve's system slowly and he let out a slow breath, finding himself able to think more clearly now, to see the damage he had done without even meaning to. He really should have called Bucky sooner, let him explain himself before it got to this.

"You didn't want me to go to Clint's for the afternoon because you wanted to cook for me." Steve stated and Bucky's head snapped up. The confused look on Bucky's face vanished in a blink of an eye, replaced by a look of shock and realization, his eyes widening almost comically.

"Shit."

Steve frowned at him.

"Sorry… I mean… I was…" Oh no. No. No. No. No! How the _hell_ had Steve even found out about the day before? The only person he had told was Sam! The same Sam who had met up with Steve in the morning and-.

"I asked Sam to drive me to Peggy's house!" Bucky blurted out, jumping at the chance to make things right again. To hell with how scared this conversation was making Bucky. To hell with what could happen if Bucky kept talking. All he wanted was for Steve to stop _looking_ at him like that.

"Peggy?"

Bucky sagged visibly as soon as Steve's face had straightened out and the deep line between his eyebrows had smoothed out again.

"Yeah. Peggy."

"The lady you visited… it was Peggy?" Realization settled on Steve's features right before regret washed over his face and he was in Bucky's space immediately. "I'm so sorry!" Steve pleaded, hands coming to rest on Bucky's waist gingerly, "I should have just spoken to you about it like a normal person and instead I exploded and damn it Buck I'm so sorry!" Bucky's face softened and he leant towards Steve, resting his forehead against Steve's, breathing him in, revelling in the fact that Steve was so close to him again.

"S'fine."

"No it's not Buck!" Steve insisted stubbornly. Although their faces were too close for Bucky to make out the look on Steve's face, he was certain that Steve was frowning the way he always did when something was unjust.

"Sorry Stevie but I really don't care whether you think it's fair or not." Bucky smiled lightly, "I'm just glad you ain't upset no more."

"You should be the one that's upset." Steve pointed out and Bucky chuckled, shaking his head so vaguely that Steve hardly felt it.

"I ain't angry though."

"Well I am. I'm upset that I yelled at you like an idiot! It's not fair on you Buck!" Bucky pulled back to get a better look at Steve's face, drawing in a sharp breath when he was far enough to see. There was that fire again. There was the angry pout on his shapely lips, the concerned line between his eyebrows and the way his eyes narrowed angrily. He looked just like he did back when he was still too small to hold a candle to any of the bullies he tried to fend off. He looked just like that short kid that Bucky could fit underneath his arm so perfectly.

"You're beautiful, do you know that?" Bucky asked him quietly.

Steve's blue eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

"Buck… what?"

* * *

There you go~ I really hope you enjoyed it!

Lemme know what you think!

I hope all of you have an awesome week! I'll be back next week wtih chapter 26!


	26. Chapter 26

Hey guys! It's a little later than usual I know, that's because I've been running like crazy all day to finish things off. You see, I'm going on vacation as of tomorrow and I'm only going to be back on the 30th of June. (Two and a half months! I'm freaking out here!) But I'll still try to be good and keep to our weekly dates!  
Here you have chapter 26! I really hope you enjoy it!  
Also, thank you SO much for your reviews on the previous chapter! They made me so happy! :D

 **Chapter 26**

"You're beautiful, do you know that?" Bucky asked him quietly.

Steve's blue eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

"Buck… what?"

Bucky zoned back in, realizing, much to his mortification, that he had just said that out loud. As if of its own accord, his mind locked down, his body becoming stubbornly stiff, his face closing off, hiding any hint of emotion from Steve who was searching Bucky's eyes.

"Sorry Stevie. It's nothing." Bucky tried to shrug it off, tried to do some damage control before Steve could kick him out of their apartment. Yes, Bucky was fully aware that Steve was open-minded when it came to sexuality but he didn't know how Steve would feel about living in the same apartment as his best friend who was in love with him. He was too afraid to even consider the possible outcomes to telling Steve about his feelings, deciding that keeping it to himself was probably his best option. What Bucky _had_ let slip though, seemed to have lit a spark of curiosity in Steve that was threatening to burst into an inferno at any moment. There was a sense of urgency to the way Steve was searching Bucky's eyes and it made the brunet's skin crawl in an unfamiliar and yet enticing way. He wanted to chase that feeling, see where it came from and what would happen if he poked at it a little, thinking of the different ways that feeling could change depending on the signals Steve was sending out.

He stopped himself though, knowing that indulging in any of his own feelings at this point would only lead to him spilling more than was good for their friendship.

Steve licked his lips nervously. Bucky had gone cold and it scared Steve. The closed-off expression on Bucky's face made Steve feel unsure, like he was walking on ice. It made him want to back away and avert his eyes, but he couldn't; not after what Bucky had just said.

Steve wanted to reprimand Bucky, tell him again not to treat Steve like one of his girls but Steve had to begrudgingly admit that he wanted Bucky to treat him the way he used to treat his dates. He wanted Bucky to smile at him coyly, to hold his hand, to tell everyone how gorgeous he was. Bucky had had so many girls though and Steve didn't want to be just a number, he wanted to be the only one that mattered anymore. It was a silly thought spun out of his farfetched dreams about the possibility that his best friend could see more than just a friend in Steve.

And yet… Bucky had called him beautiful. It had made Steve's insides light up with electricity, made his cheeks feel like hot coals. Still, Steve was acutely aware that Bucky used to be an incorrigible flirt before he left with the 107th. He'd flirt with a number of girls every day and when he got home to Steve, the flirting wouldn't stop at the doorstep. Flirting used to be as natural as breathing for Bucky and although Bucky might not remember how to actually flirt, calling Steve beautiful might just have been the first step towards falling back into the habit.

"It's fine Buck…" Steve muttered, conjuring up the most convincing smile he could, "It isn't the first time you've called me that."

Bucky winced. He wanted to tell Steve that nothing had changed, that he still believed that Steve was the most beautiful person he had ever encountered, not just on the outside but on the inside as well. He was like a beacon of light in a dull world for Bucky, even during his time in the military, even during his time with Hydra.

He'd just never told Steve as much.

"Can I ask you a favour though?" Bucky perked up at Steve's request, nodding his head readily. The look on Steve's face saddened then, becoming a little darker, his eyes a slightly duller again.

"Can you not?"

"What?" Bucky asked, frowning at the strange request.

"Could you not call me beautiful? I told you before that I don't want you treating me like one of your girls. I know I'm not and I know I won't ever be, I just… it'd be easier if you stopped." Steve offered him another forced smile before turning to leave while Bucky processed what Steve had just asked of him.  
The meaning behind Steve's words hit Bucky like a rock to a window, smashing through his fears and reservations, echoing throughout his body in form of a buzz that made his heart do a double-take. The barricade he had built up around his mind crumbled away like dried pastry and the stiffness in his body drained out of him instantly.

He knew what he wanted to do. He knew what he had to do.

"But you _are_ beautiful Stevie."

Steve froze in the motion of pushing down on the door handle, lingering like that for a moment before turning around to face Bucky again, back pressed against the door. His face was harder than usual, eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

"Buck stop."

"Can't."

"Why not?" Steve retorted, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. Was Bucky joking with him? Would Bucky really joke about something like this? Surely he wouldn`t after what Steve had just asked of him?

"Because I ain't a good actor." Bucky admitted, "Never have been actually."

"And what does that have to do with any of this?"

"I can't pretend like you ain't beautiful." Bucky explained, wavering unsurely when Steve stiffened defensively.  
Bucky used to be good with words, a lot better than he was now. Nowadays, he was much better with actions than words, trusting his body more than he trusted his mind.

He moved to stand directly in front of Steve, surprised when Steve didn't make a move to stop him or to flee. He advanced until the tips of his socked toes were brushing against Steve's and he could feel Steve's warm breath on his face. Steve's eyes were a beautiful mixture of anticipation, scepticism and nervousness and Bucky couldn't help but take a moment to admire the way the emotions blended together in the azure blue of his best friend's eyes.

"What're you doing Bucky?" Steve asked him breathlessly, jumping when Bucky put his hands on Steve's hips, pulling him a little closer. Bucky was bracing himself for the imminent rejection, for the moment that Steve would lift his hands to push against Bucky's chest and tell him to stop but until Steve did that, Bucky was going to press on. He was already knee-deep so why not dive the rest of the way in?  
Steve's eyes didn't seem to be able to decide on a point on Bucky's face to focus on, flicking from one spot to the next, lingering on Bucky's grey-blue eyes every few seconds.  
Steve mouthed Bucky's name in a silent plea for him to snap out of it. Bucky didn't notice though. He was too busy thinking back to the girls he had dated, remembering what it had felt like to hold them, to kiss them- Steve was so different and Bucky loved it. Steve was right, he wasn't like any of the girls that Bucky had previously dated and all at once, Bucky realized why it had never worked out with any of them: because holding them wasn't like holding Steve. Because kissing them was probably very unlike kissing Steve. Because talking to them was nowhere near as enrapturing as talking to Steve and because waking up next to them wasn't as wonderful as waking up next to Steve.

Bucky tensed when Steve stirred, finally able to snap himself out of his initial stupor. The blond lifted his strong arms and Bucky was sure that he was about to push him away.

He didn't though.  
Instead, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky's waist tentatively, fingers pushing against the small of Bucky's back experimentally. Bucky relaxed into the contact, focusing on the feeling of Steve's fingers examining the strong strings of muscle covering his lower back. Every time Steve's fingers pushed between two muscles, it made Bucky want to arch his back to escape the pressure but he managed to stop himself.

"I'm really sorry Stevie." Bucky mumbled regretfully after a long pause.

"What're you apologizing for buddy?" Steve asked him quietly, knowing that even at a whisper, Bucky could hear him clearly.

"I don't want you to hate me." Bucky replied dolefully.

"Buck." Steve tightened his arms around Bucky, giving him a reproachful look that made Bucky want to bow his head sheepishly. "I could never hate you. You know that!"

"Even if I can't stop thinking 'bout ya?" Steve's eyes widened and he spluttered for a moment before forcing himself to keep it together, identifying the vulnerability in Bucky's eyes as soon as it appeared.

"Even then."

"Even if I wanna be with you all the time?"

"Of course Bucky." Steve smiled nervously.

"Even if I don't wanna be with any girls ever again?"

"Yeah. Even then Buck." Steve felt light-headed, his mind struggling to process what Bucky was saying. This had to be some sort of dream. Had Steve fallen asleep in the park while people-watching after leaving Sam that morning? Surely he wasn't leaning against Bucky with him only inches away, telling Steve that he… no… Steve was sure he was misunderstanding! There was no way that Bucky returned the feelings Steve had for him! He was certain that Bucky would snap out of it at any moment before doing something he could end up regretting. Bucky wasn't interested in men, never had been and he definitely wasn't interested in Steve! Steve would have noticed if his best friend was bisexual or gay, right? He would definitely have noticed if Bucky had feelings for him!  
Steve wanted to speak up, tell Bucky to stop before he could do anything he didn't really want to do but his brain had spontaneously decided to cut any connections it had with his mouth, leaving him with no other choice but to stare at Bucky like a deer caught in headlights.

"Well what about if I sometimes wonder what it feels like to kiss you?"

Steve's brain short-circuited and he gaped at Bucky for a solid ten seconds before bowing his head when his brain caught up to what Bucky had said and sent a whole lot of blood rushing into Steve's cheeks in response. Knowing that Bucky needed some sort of reaction, he pushed his fingers into Bucky's back firmly, urging him a little closer. Bucky obliged, moving so that Steve's forehead was leaning against Bucky's chest.

"I…" Steve bit down on his tongue, going over the words that had come to him over and over and over again before daring to speak them out loud, fear punctuating every letter, every syllable, "I can't hate you for wondering the thing about me that I've been wondering about you for years." He whispered, wishing that Bucky would miss it but knowing that he wouldn't. This was confirmed when Bucky let out a slow breath to compose himself, leaning his weight against Steve so that Steve's back came into contact with the bathroom door again.

"Are you serious?" Bucky asked him breathlessly and Steve smiled almost automatically, lifting his head to look up at his best friend. His smile widened into a goofy grin when he saw that Bucky of all people was blushing too, his eyes shimmering with more happiness than Steve had ever seen.

"I wouldn't joke about something like this Buck." Steve promised him, biting his lip when Bucky's beautiful lips pulled into an equally as beautiful grin that made Steve's knees feel weak.

"So…" Bucky paused, eyes flicking down to Steve's smiling lips before looking Steve in the eye again, "Is it okay if I…?"

"Really Buck?" Steve asked him with a laugh and an eye-roll. He removed his hands from Bucky's back, lifting them to Bucky's chest to pull him forward by his shirt. Bucky let out a surprised laugh that was quickly silenced when their lips met in a firm, determined and slightly urgent kiss that was long overdue. Steve didn't even have to coax Bucky's lips to move because Bucky was kissing back before he had even really registered what was happening.

Steve knew that Bucky was probably a good kisser but he had no idea that Bucky was going to be _that_ good. He stumbled forward, against Bucky, clinging onto the other man to prevent himself from sinking to the ground. His legs were positively weak and his heart was doing summersaults in his chest. It felt like his lungs were tightening the way they would when he was having an asthma attack but Steve didn't care. Bucky was there with him so even if he did have an asthma attack, Bucky would take care of him. He always did.

Steve was so overwhelmed by emotion that he almost broke the kiss to bury his face in Bucky's chest to stop himself from crying. Everything from the day that he had thought Bucky had died to finding Bucky again and then going through therapy with him came rushing back, all of it coming to a halt at the very moment that Steve had realized that Bucky, for whatever reason, cared about Steve in the same way that Steve cared about him.

"Where the hell did you learn to kiss like this Stevie?" Bucky asked him, smiling when Steve chased his lips to resume the kiss. Bucky returned the kiss readily, deepening the kiss until Steve opened up his mouth for him. Steve's hands trailed from Bucky chest, past his strong shoulders before coming to rest at the back of Bucky's neck, his arms draped over Bucky's shoulders loosely. His long fingers started carding through the hair on the back of Bucky's head and the brunet groaned, the sound resonating in his chest and reverberating all the way into Steve's chest.

This was, by far, the best kiss Steve had ever had in his entire life. He couldn't quite describe the way Bucky tasted but he committed it to memory, every detail of it like he would memorize things he wanted to draw.

It didn't take long before Bucky's hands started wandering, moving from Steve's hips, up along the front of Steve's torso until they were cupping Steve's face. Bucky's right hand twitched minutely with every new sensation he felt but his left one stayed completely still, the cold metal a strong contrast to Steve's flaming face.

Steve could do this all day, _wanted_ to do this all day but he knew that it was probably better to take things slow. He used his hands on the back of Bucky's neck to guide him away from his own lips, smiling like an idiot when Bucky made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat at the loss of contact.

"C'mon Stevie just a little longer. It feels so good." Bucky's pupils were dilated, taking over most of the blue of Bucky's eyes. Steve wondered if he looked just as wrecked as Bucky did.

"I'm feeling kinda lightheaded actually." Steve admitted embarrassedly, biting his lip when Bucky frowned at him worriedly.

"When was the last time you had something to eat?" He asked Steve, frowning even more when Steve averted his eyes sheepishly, "Steve?"

"Well… when I met Sam."

"You haven't eaten all day?!" Steve's eyes found Bucky's and he was shocked to see that Bucky was angry. "Doll you gotta look after yourself more!" The nickname slipped again and Bucky cringed, giving Steve an apologetic look. This time though, Steve smiled up at him with a flattered blush that made Bucky want to kiss him all over again. He supressed the urge though, knowing that he had far more important things to deal with right then. He took a hold of Steve's hand with his flesh one, pulling him away from the door to open it. He guided Steve into the living room where Flake had settled down at the foot of the couch on the small grey rug they had lain out for her. Steve followed Bucky readily, eyes trained on their hands that were entwined firmly.

Was all of this really happening?

Bucky sat him down at the island in the kitchen before getting to work on some sandwiches while Steve watched him with adoring eyes. Every time Bucky looked in Steve's direction and saw that Steve was watching him, he smiled at Steve warmly. It was nice to be able to look at Bucky now without thinking that he was doing something unheard of. He watched the way Bucky's muscles moved beneath the shirt he was wearing, appreciating the fact that he had chosen to wear a short-sleeved shirt. That warm feeling started blooming in Steve's chest and he let it, enjoying the way it made him feel like he had finally made it home, that he was right there where he was meant to be.

"I meant it by the way." Steve blinked, finding Bucky looking at him over his shoulder, "You need to look after yourself better Steve."

"It was just this one time." Steve defend himself gently, too content to put much conviction behind his words. Bucky huffed, finishing off the sandwiches before joining Steve at the island. They started eating in silence and Steve quickly realized that something wasn't quite right with Bucky. His shoulders were tense and he chewed a little more forcefully than was necessary, his flesh fingers leaving clear indents in the white bread.

"Is something wrong?" Steve asked Bucky worriedly, instinctively reaching out his free hand to grasp onto Bucky's metal one tightly. The touch made Bucky relax a little but didn't wipe the frown from Bucky's face.

"I should have told you that I went to Peggy's." Bucky grumbled, "If I had, you wouldn't have been too upset to eat."

"I think you made up for that Buck." Steve smiled at him, thankful when Bucky smiled back, "Did you have a good time at Peggy's?" He added, hoping to divert Bucky's attention away from chastising himself for doing something behind Steve's back.

"I did, yeah. She was surprised."

"At how much you've changed?" Steve chimed in and Bucky nodded with a light laugh.

"I went to talk to her about you…" Bucky admitted, "about my feelings for you."

"And that's why you didn't want to tell me?" Steve guessed, nodding his head in understanding when Bucky nodded, "Well that makes sense."

"I'm glad." Bucky stated dryly, making Steve laugh.

"It's fine Buck. Really! That's behind us alright? I'm not angry at you for it anymore. It was a misunderstanding, that's all."

"I guess." Bucky relented, the annoyed look giving way to a smirk, "Well the next time you go out somewhere, I guess I'll just have to come along." Steve smiled a little confusedly, studying the smirk on Bucky's face and the mischievous twinkle in his storm-grey eyes.

"Is that your way of asking me on a date Barnes?" He asked a little nervously, hoping he wasn't misreading the look on Bucky's face.

"And what if it is, punk?"

"Then I'd probably say yes. Definitely, jerk."

* * *

There you go! Short and sweet and fluffy!  
Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!


	27. Chapter 27

Guys I'm finally back! My vacation was absolutely amazing! Also, I'm super super excited to share the next two chapters with you!  
Thank you for being so patient and waiting for these chapters and I really hope they don't let you down! Please do let me know what you think!

* * *

 **Chapter 27**

"Hold still." Sam chastised Steve gently, a smile dancing on his lips while he ran his long fingers through Steve's fringe.

"Sorry." Steve mumbled, looking past Sam, at his reflection in Sam's full-length mirror. Steve bit down on his bottom lip nervously. Would Bucky like the outfit Sam had helped Steve pick out the day before? The dark-blue shirt fitted well enough, not sitting too tightly around his broad shoulders without swimming around his trim waist. It looked good both tucked in and hanging around the hem of his tight black jeans loosely. Steve, of course, had chosen to keep the shirt tucked in. Steve's bottom lip soon found itself between his teeth again, being chewed mercilessly while Steve scanned his outfit, trying to think of anything that he might have missed.

"Why're you so nervous Steve? It's just Bucky." The moment the words had left Sam's mouth, the former para-rescuer pulled a face, rolling his eyes at how silly that statement was. Sam knew just as well as Steve did that Steve was this nervous _because_ it was Bucky. Anyone else and Steve's normally so still hands would probably be able to style his own fringe. With Bucky though? Steve was a wreck.

Steve took a deep breath, concentrating on the feeling of his lungs filling up with oxygen.

"You'll be fine." Sam assured him. He took a step back, critical gaze sweeping over Steve from head to toe.

"Do you think he'll like it?" Steve asked self-consciously, shoving his jittery hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Honest opinion?" Sam enquired. Steve nodded firmly, biting his lip again. "He's gotta be blind not to appreciate the way your ass looks in those jeans." Sam grinned.

"Sam!" Steve spluttered, going a violent shade of red while trying to somehow hide his face behind his shaking hands. Sam burst out laughing, slinging an arm around Steve casually, shaking the taller man a little.

"Did you see your face in the mirror? Please tell me you did- it was priceless!" Sam cackled, leaning more weight onto Steve while the blond tried to get his blush back under control, "But seriously Steve, you look pretty damn good."

"Th… thanks Sam." Steve stuttered, smiling at Sam's reflection gratefully.

"There is something though…" Sam pursed his lips thoughtfully, considering Steve one more time before springing into action. He undid the top two buttons of Steve's shirt, exposing Steve's collarbones before rolling up the sleeves, tucking them in neatly just below Steve's elbows. "Now you look less like a guy going to the office and more like a guy going on a date." Steve's stomach did a little flip at Sam's words.

Date.

He was going on a date.

He wasn't just going on a date; he was going on a date with his best friend. With James Buchanan Barnes, the man Steve had unwittingly loved for a long, long time. The more he tried to wrap his mind around it, the crazier the whole situation seemed to him. He let his mind drift, going back to the many double-dates he had gone on with Bucky. He remembered the way Bucky would look his date up and down appreciatively when they'd open the door for him. By the time Bucky'd be done, his date would be blushing and he'd laugh, as if he hadn't noticed her bashfulness, pulling her into a hug and pressing a kiss to her rosy cheek. And then _this is my best pal Steve. 'Member I told ya all 'bout him? Ain't he something to look at?_

Steve couldn't help but smile, ducking his head when Sam gave him a quizzical look through his reflection in the mirror.

Steve took a deep breath. He really didn't want to mess this up. He was well aware of the fact that Bucky had seen him in every possible kind of situation from elegant to embarrassing, from happy to incredibly sad and had _still_ asked Steve out on a date but that thought didn't do much to calm the raging butterflies in his stomach. He just… _really_ didn't want to mess this up.

"Steve." Steve blinked, surprised by Sam's sober tone, looking up at Sam whilst turning his back on the mirror.

"Yeah?" Steve's eyebrows arched in a question.

"You'll be fine."

 _You'll be fine Stevie! I mean, who wouldn't wanna go out with ya?_

"I feel like that sixteen-year-old kid again." Steve admitted with an airy laugh.

"And what's wrong with that?" Sam asked, smiling at Steve warmly. Steve returned the smile for a moment, pondering Sam's rhetorical question briefly. There really wasn't anything wrong with that, was there? Bucky had always made Steve feel different, made him feel carefree. Even after his parents had died and Steve had felt all alone, he'd still had Bucky who'd make everything better with a bowel of chicken soup, a warm hug and his silly antics.

Steve was ripped out of his pleasant thoughts by a wave of nausea triggered by the sound of Sam's doorbell echoing through the apartment. His eyes grew wide and found Sam immediately, begging.

"Oh hell no!" Sam crossed his arms across his chest, frowning at Steve, "I am _not_ answering the door! You are getting your grown-up ass over to that door to say hello to your freaking date! Then, you're going to have a great bloody time Rogers!"

Steve whimpered but obliged after only a short moment of hesitation. He checked his reflection in the mirror one last time before dodging Sam's hands when his friend waved at him to hurry it up.

Steve rushed out of the room and across the living room to the front door, stopping short once the door handle was within reach.

It felt to Steve as though his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

"Okay breathe." He reminded himself, forcing himself to take a deep breath before opening the door for his best friend.

Steve had practiced his greeting all morning but despite it all, the moment his eyes settled on Bucky, it was all for naught. His brain shorted out and his mouth hung open stupidly while his bright eyes took in what Bucky looked like.

This was the man Steve was going to go out with? But he looked so good! He looked so happy, so radiant, so _gorgeous_! How could Steve have ever gotten so lucky?

Bucky's short hair was tousled but seemed to have been done up like that on purpose. His torso was adorned by a deep maroon button-up covered by a new leather jacket that made his impressive shoulders look even broader. He was wearing a pair of tight black jeans that showed off the lean muscles in Bucky's long legs. As if the outfit wasn't devastating enough, Bucky was wearing a pair of black military boots to top it all off.

Swallowing, Steve's eyes found the coy smirk on Bucky's handsome face before he forced himself to look up at Bucky's eyes. Bucky was just finishing off his own evaluation, his stunning eyes finding Steve's after only a short moment. Steve felt like he couldn't breathe.

"You clean up nicely Stevie." Naturally, Bucky was the first one to break the silence.

"You don't look too bad yourself Buck." Steve replied with a bright smile, gut twisting with a mixture of exhilaration and nervousness. Bucky's eyes left Steve's reluctantly, finding Sam who was lingering in the kitchen awkwardly. He gave Sam a short nod before turning his undivided attention back to an expectant Steve.

"You have everything you need?" Bucky asked him. Almost comically, Steve spun around on his heels to retrieve his brown leather jacket from the couch before rushing back to the door and patting down his pockets. Bucky watched this with a hardly visible smile. If one looked carefully enough though, one could see the adoration in his ice-blue eyes.

"I do." Steve finally announced with a triumphant smile, letting his arms fall to his sides.

"Then let's go."

As soon as Steve had closed the door to Sam's apartment behind him, Bucky's right hand was on his face, caressing his skin gently. Steve's eyes found Bucky's immediately, any words he may have wanted to say, vanishing in a puff of smoke. The look on Bucky's face… it was nothing like the look he had always worn when he had greeted those girls he went on dates with. It was overwhelmingly different, overwhelmingly _better_.

"I ain't used to telling you this." Bucky admitted with a smile, "But you look pretty darn amazin' Stevie." He conceded, leaning his forehead against Steve's carefully, "I can't believe you actually said yes to going out on a date with me."

"Bucky, do you even realize how amazing you are?" Steve blurted out unthinkingly, blushing when Bucky pulled away to consider Steve with soft, slightly puzzled eyes. Steve knew that Bucky couldn't relate. Bucky couldn't understand what Steve saw in him, couldn't understand why Steve gave up _so much_ just to make sure that Bucky was safe and happy. He knew, as much as he hated it, that Bucky didn't think he was worth all that.

Suddenly, Steve's nervousness vanished, replaced by a blazing determination to show Bucky just how amazing he was. He finally had the opportunity to show Bucky just how special he was to Steve and Steve had every intention of seizing that opportunity.  
He wasn't going to sit back and let Bucky do all the work on their date- he was going to make Bucky feel just as special as Bucky made him feel by asking him on the date in the first place.

"What're you thinking about?" Bucky asked him, having been watching Steve's thoughts project onto his face. "You look like you're about to fight someone." That made Steve laugh.

"Not unless anyone gives me a reason to." Steve replied, grinning.

"So you mean right up until you run into a man who's being rude to a woman?" Bucky smirked. Steve laughed again, ducking his head because it was yet another thing that Bucky obviously remembered and there was probably no way Steve could express how happy that made him.

"I'm just thinking about today." Steve admitted.

"Yeah?" Bucky tilted his head curiously, "I hope it's all good stuff."

"Sure is." Steve assured Bucky brightly, "So are we gonna go or do you wanna keep me waiting Buck?"

"Wouldn't dream of it Stevie."

* * *

"So where are we going?" Steve worded his question after mulling over it for a good ten minutes while following Bucky who was weaving between pedestrians masterfully, leading Steve along with a warm hand wrapped around Steve's.

"Where would the fun be in telling you?" Bucky looked at Steve over his shoulder, smiling when he saw the annoyed frown on Steve's face.

"C'mon Buck you gotta-." His voice broke off as soon as Bucky attempted to pull Steve down a set of stairs leading to the subway. The happy bliss he had felt ebbed away, giving way to worry that washed over him like a violent wave, shifting his mood to one of concern. Steve looked at the sign to the metro station for a very long moment before looking at Bucky who was waiting for Steve to make his decision.

"How do you know you're ready?" Steve asked Bucky quietly to avoid eavesdropping. People were passing them impatiently, annoyed by the fact that the two large men were standing in the middle of the subway entrance. Neither Steve nor Bucky could really find it in themselves to care though.

"I don't know if I'm ready." Bucky admitted but despite his confession, he didn't seem troubled at all.

"Then why are you doing this?" Steve felt a hint of agitation surface at the back of his mind. Bucky was being reckless. Yes, he was feeling better but pushing himself too far could set him back in his rehabilitation and, if push comes to shove, put people's lives in danger. "Well last time I checked, this was the entrance to the metro and seeing as I wanna catch one of 'em, I gotta go down there." Bucky smirked lightly, trying to ignore the annoyed look on Steve's face. "Bucky what if you-."

"How will I ever know if I don't try?" Bucky interrupted Steve, knowing fully well that Steve hated being interrupted. Steve frowned at him for a moment before shrugging, allowing Bucky to continue. "Let me try Stevie. I wanna try."

"Why today?" Steve asked worriedly, studying Bucky's face for any signs of discomfort but finding none. "Because I got you with me."

Steve wanted to protest. He wanted to tell Bucky to leave it but New York was a big city. He didn't know if they could get to their destination on foot and denying Bucky the chance to take Steve to the place he had planned to, seemed almost cruel.

"Let me do this Stevie." Bucky tried again, resting his hands on Steve's hips and pulling him closer, "I'll be fine." He added, placing a gentle kiss on Steve's cheek. Steve sighed, feeling his resolve dwindle away the longer Bucky held him like that.

"You'll tell me if it's too much?"

"Of course I will, doll."

Steve averted his eyes, biting down on his bottom lip while a blush spread across his cheeks, colouring his nose the colour of rose petals.

* * *

Steve's eyes were on Bucky when the silver train rattled to a stop in the station, the doors opening to let them in. He was slightly relieved to find that the train wasn't too full, hoping that it would somehow make Bucky feel a little more comfortable. Once they had found a good place to stand, Bucky's metal hand took a hold of one of the bars while his right arm wrapped around Steve's waist loosely.

As soon as the doors closed behind them, Steve noticed the tension in the line of Bucky's neck. He pushed into Bucky's side gently to comfort him. Noticing this, Bucky turned his head to face Steve, smiling at him gratefully, his arm tightening around Steve's waist. The two stayed like that, silently enjoying each other's company while the train pulled out of the station, screeching along the tracks as it barrelled towards the next stop.

After a while, Steve's guard dropped and he leant his head against Bucky's shoulder, enjoying Bucky's closeness and the smell of his cologne. He wanted to close his eyes but he knew that it was too soon for that. It wasn't that he didn't trust Bucky or his judgement, it was just that Steve couldn't help but want to look out for Bucky. He knew that Bucky was more than capable of looking after himself but that didn't do anything to make Steve feel any less fiercely protective over Bucky.

The train jolted and were it not for Bucky's arm around Steve, the blond would have fallen over. Steve mumbled a quiet "Thanks Buck." Into Bucky's shoulder and the brunette tightened his arm around Steve protectively in response.

After only a few stops, Steve stopped listening to the announcements, letting the noise around him blur together into white noise. He could feel Bucky's shoulder rise and fall with his steady breathing and he let it lull him into a daydream.

* * *

The Q train came to a screeching halt in a station that, at first glance, seemed nothing but slightly familiar to Steve. The platform was elevated, windows giving him a good view of the… ocean?

Steve looked at Bucky quizzically but all Bucky did was smile while realization very slowly dawned on the blond. His feet moved more quickly, following Bucky eagerly, letting his date lead him down the narrow metal stairs.

The afternoon heat hit Steve the moment he stepped out of the much cooler station. The heat wasn't the only thing that hit Steve though. Memories of afternoons spent here rushed through him like the blood in his veins. He felt teary and happy at the same time, unsure as to what to express. The sound of wheels rushing over rails drowned out the laughter, the screaming and the music for a brief moment. The ocean breeze whipped through Steve's hair, testing the quality of the hair wax Sam had let him use. The smell of corndogs and cotton-candy wafted towards him, beckoning him to take the remaining few steps down to the road. Steve's breath stalled for a moment, leaving him breathless and slightly overwhelmed.

"I did have fun." Bucky spoke up, resting a hand against the small of Steve's back to draw Steve's attention back to him, "I remembered."

Steve tore his eyes away from the Cyclone to look at Bucky. He had to swallow around the emotions stuck in his throat in order to speak.

"Yeah." Steve gave Bucky a watery smile, "We did have fun here."

"Ready to have some more fun?" Bucky grinned that mischievous, charming smile that Steve had missed _so_ much, making Steve's poor heart skip a beat.

"Definitely." Steve breathed, alternating between grinning and laughing- all he could do to stop himself from crying.

* * *

If Steve had thought that the memories of Coney Island had been overwhelming for him, then he definitely hadn't thought about what it would be like for Bucky. The large amount of people around them at the fare didn't seem to bother Bucky in the slightest, not even when people bumped into him by mistake. He was so busy looking around, pointing things out to Steve to even notice any of the people around them. Steve on the other hand, was far too enraptured by Bucky to notice the people around them. Bucky was beaming! With every new memory that surfaced in vivid colours and intoxicating emotions, his face lit up that little bit more. When the memories didn't come anymore, all Steve had to do was tell Bucky some of the adventures they'd had and that usually got the ball rolling again. Bucky would run every single memory by Steve with colourful description and a fond smile, grinning when Steve confirmed the realness of each memory.

"Hey look Stevie!" Bucky grinned, pulling his date through the crowd to one of the stands. Round targets with a black bullseye in the middle were pinned to the wall in a neat line. Guns were laid out on a green plastic table, one gun for each target. "What was her name?" Bucky asked Steve.

"Dorothy but you called her Dot." Steve smiled, "You took her here shortly before you went to basic."

"I won her one of those teddies." Bucky nodded. His ice-blue eyes looked over the prizes with a fond, reminiscent twinkle. Steve watched this, trying not to think about how miserable he had been on that particular double-date. Bucky had been quite smitten with Dot, doing whatever he could to make an impression. Sometimes Steve wondered whether Bucky had hoped that she would wait for him until he got back from basic training. She didn't though and Steve would be lying if he said that he hadn't been slightly grateful to her for it.  
Steve was snapped back to reality by the motion of Bucky handing over four one-dollar bills. The man behind the table thanked Bucky, handing him one of the rifles.

Bucky handled the gun with ease, muscle memory guiding his arms and hands in just the right way. The butt of the rifle settled against his shoulder, the barrel resting in Bucky's gloved metal hand. His right index finger rested against the trigger while he bowed his head to align his eye with the sight of the gun. Steve couldn't help but compare this Bucky to the Bucky that had held the same sort of rifle on the date with Dot and her friend. It was one of those moments in which Steve was painfully reminded of how different Bucky was now. He held the rifle with a confidence that made a cold shiver run down Steve's spine. Unconsciously and purely out of habit, Bucky let out a long, steadying breath before firing the air rifle. The first shot missed the bullseye. Bucky moved to reload just as the owner of the stand moved to instruct him on how to. Steve watched with a gentle smile as the man drew back his arm and took a step back, looking slightly resigned. Once the rifle was reloaded, he settled it back against the base of his shoulder, taking his time with aiming this time. Steve followed the line of the barrel, smirking when he saw that Bucky wasn't aiming at the bullseye anymore, having realized that the rifles were obviously rigged. This time, when Bucky fired the gun, the pellet hit dead centre, piercing through the middle of the black bullseye.

"Wow." The vendor pulled the piece of paper off the wall, taking a closer look at the two shots Bucky had taken, "You in the army?" He asked Bucky, a hint of a joke playing in his voice.

"Guess I'm just lucky." Bucky replied with a charming smile, handing the rifle back to the man with a polite nod. Steve couldn't help but feel slightly relieved now that the rifle was out of Bucky's hands; not because he didn't trust Bucky with it, but because it reminded Steve too much of a person lying dormant somewhere inside Bucky's mind.

"Well then, take your pick!" The vendor gestured to the stuffed toys with a wide wave of his arm, smiling at Bucky.

"Which one do you want Stevie?"

"What?" Steve asked dumbly, blushing when Bucky laughed.

"Well you _are_ my date, aren't ya?"

"Well yes but I…" Steve closed his mouth before he could make himself look even sillier, shaking off his bashfulness enough to take a look at the stuffed toys. In the back, partially hidden behind a large fluffy unicorn, Steve spotted a small, dark-brown bear. Its torso was blue, resembling a uniform with blue pants and a thick blue jacket with red buttons and a red collar. All four of its paws were red as well and Steve assumed that it was wearing matching boots and gloves. Adorning its face was a black eye mask that ended just above its red button nose.

For some reason, the bear reminded him of Bucky.

"Uhm…" Steve bit down on his tongue for a moment, composing himself before speaking up again, "Could I have that bear? The one with the red paws and the mask?" He was certain that he must be blushing, especially when the man handed Steve the bear with a smile. The blond managed to force out a hoarse thank you, hugging the bear to his chest helplessly, as if it could make him feel any less flustered.

"Hey Steve?" Steve tore his eyes away from his new bear to look up at Bucky who was smiling at him endearingly. The moment their eyes met, Bucky leant in to give Steve a long, soft kiss. "If I had known that getting you a stuffed bear could make you blush like that, I would'a done it years ago." Bucky teased with a shit-eating grin that had Steve writhing.

"Oh shove off." Steve muttered, turning away from the shooting stand and making his way through the crowd. Behind him, Bucky hurried to keep up with him, laughing heartily.

"Hey! Steve!" Bucky called after him. Steve couldn't help but grin, making sure he stayed ahead of Bucky to prevent his date from seeing it. "Stevie! Wait up! Lemme see that cute blush of yours again!" Bucky chased after Steve who was dodging past people, heading in the direction of the boardwalk. Steve could hear Bucky continue to laugh and Steve felt his heart flutter.

Bucky's laugh was beautiful. _Bucky_ was beautiful!  
And this date? Well Steve had the feeling that it was only really getting started.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading!

These boys are killing me! So what did you think?  
I'll be uploading the next chapter within the next half an hour for you guys!


	28. Chapter 28

Hey guys! So are you ready for some more feelings?  
Also: I need your imput for chapter 29 so please, once you've read this chapter, don't forget to read the note I write at the end! Thank you so much!  
Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 28**

"This was a bad idea." Steve was going to be sick; or die- maybe both!

"This was the best idea you've ever had!" Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Usually that would make Steve feel better, were it not for the ominous sound of rollercoaster wheels running over rails as the snake of carts rose higher and higher.

"Buck I'm gonna be sick!" Steve whined, pushing into Bucky's side instinctively. Bucky snaked his arm around Steve's waist, pulling him closer comfortingly. Steve's hands were both clasping onto the black rail that had been secured across their lower chests, knuckles going white under the strain.

"You'll be fine, doll." Bucky mumbled, placing a kiss against Steve's temple, "Just hold onto me."

Steve didn't have to be told twice. His hands darted from the black bar to Bucky's chest and leg, fingers finding fabric to cling onto while they neared the top of the first hill. The view was absolutely breath-taking: the ocean stretched out in front of them, glistening in oranges and reds, a reflection of the setting sun. Below them, the fare was still very much alive, people directing their eyes skywards to watch the Cyclone descend. The ocean breeze was a lot stronger at their altitude and it whipped through Steve's hair, tickling Bucky's neck.

"Hey Steve?"

"What the hell do you want Bucky?" Steve gasped unhappily.

Bucky sighed, giving Steve's temple another adoring kiss before moving to whisper in Steve's ear, a smile playing on his lips while he did so. "I just remembered something."

"Oh yeah?"

"The last time we were on here… I loved you back then already."

Steve's head shot up from where it had been pressed against Bucky's shoulder. His blue eyes were wide, full of emotion and astonishment. His lips were moving, opening and closing as if wanting to form words but having forgotten how to.

"I love you Steve."

Steve's stomach was the first to know about their sudden decent, lurching as soon as the rollercoaster dove down. Steve yelped, ducking his head and burying it in the crook of Bucky's neck while the brunet laughed and laughed and laughed without a care in the world. Bucky wrapped both his arms around Steve, holding onto him firmly while the rollercoaster dipped and rose, screeching over the rails at breakneck speed, the turns and curves the rails took pushing their bodies together.

Much like most other rollercoasters, the ride was over fairly quickly. The carts evened out, slowing down like a train pulling into the station. It was only once Steve was certain that it was over, that he lifted his head to look at Bucky.

Steve looked absolutely beautiful to Bucky.

His eyes shone with a mixture of relief and exhilaration. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was dishevelled, sticking up in all directions.

"I…" Steve paused, having to swallow in order to moisten his throat again before speaking, "I love you too." He gasped breathlessly, his lips parting into a dazzling grin that was nothing short of dazzling.

"Say that again." Bucky asked, begged.

Steve ducked his head, fingers fiddling with a loose strand on Bucky's jeans. "I love you Buck."

Steve didn't have to be looking at him to sense the relief that washed over Bucky in that moment. Steve didn't have to ask him to know that in that moment, something had settled deep inside of the former assassin.

"Thank you." The words were whispered, not because Bucky didn't want anyone to hear them, but because they were so laden with raw emotion that he found it impossible to say them loudly. Every single different emotion was received by Steve, painted onto a blank canvas in Steve's mind in big, expressive brush strokes, painting a picture of a broken man who thought that Hydra had taken everything good about him and destroyed it, leaving him worthless and undeserving of love.  
Steve's painting of Bucky was a different one though. It was full of yellows and oranges, of warm colours and happiness. It was sunflowers in spring and magical wonderlands in winter. It was warm chicken soup in the midst of a flu and cheap ice-cream from the vendor down the road. It was plasters and strong fists that protected him with a ferocity the likes of which Steve had never seen before. It was corny jokes and nights spent on the fire escape talking; dancing lessons that would end up in tickling matches. It was baseball games in the midst of summer and sunburns after the beach.

Steve's painting of Bucky was that of a beautiful soul and a big, warm heart that just gave and gave and never faltered.

Then, Steve kissed him.

He didn't care that they were still in the rollercoaster, waiting for the assistant to undo the black bars across their laps. He didn't care that the people behind them were forced to watch. All he cared about in that moment was painting that picture for Bucky, to show him all the beautiful colours and the warmth, the _love_. The kiss was passionate and messy and probably the best kiss either of them had ever had. Bucky's hands lifted to frame Steve's face, holding him like a precious thing, like a porcelain vase beautifully crafted by Asian craftsmen who have learnt the craft all their lives.

The sound of a metal bar clicking into place yanked them out of it and they pulled apart just in time for the assistant to lift the bar over their heads. With a smile and a wink, the young man moved on to the cart behind them.

* * *

Steve and Bucky walked in silence for a while, holding each other's hands tightly as they walked. They made their way along the boardwalk, carefully dodging running children and dogs. The sun had almost set completely now and the boardwalk was lit up with strings of lights along the right side and lanterns along the left side next to the railing separating the wooden boardwalk and the beach. The evening was warm and crisp, despite the ocean breeze whipping about around them, picking up napkins from unsuspecting tourists and whipping the small white squares up into the air, chased by uncoordinated and often ketchup-covered hands trying to catch them again.  
They continued on straight, the strange red tower in the distance drawing closer and closer the longer they walked. Neither of them seemed to have a destination in mind, both lost in their own thoughts as they wandered. Behind them, the large Ferris Wheel was turning with children staring out over Brooklyn with wondering eyes and large smiles.

"You didn't throw up."

Steve stopped in his tracks. He had gotten so accustomed to the silence between them, that it took him a few seconds to even register what Bucky had said.

"I didn't throw up." Steve agreed with a small smile, "But then again I had a compelling reason not to."

"Oh yeah?" Bucky smirked, giving Steve's hand a gentle pull to coax him into walking next to him again, "It was that girl sitting in the cart in front of us, wasn't it? You thought she was cute!"

Steve burst out into a fit of laughter, laughing so hard that he had to lean into Bucky to be able to keep moving forward.

"Damnit Buck!" Steve cackled, his free hand resting against the flat of his aching stomach while Bucky Bear, as Steve had dubbed his teddy, was wedged between Steve's upper arm and his waist.

"Hey you ain't denying it'ere Rogers!" Bucky pointed out jokily and it had Steve giggling all over again.

"Listen," Steve held up a hand, trying to catch his breath between short bursts of laughter, "You know fully well that you've gone and ruined me for anyone else Buck."

"God, I hope so." Bucky blurted out and it was probably one of the first times Steve had seen Bucky full-on blush before. Bucky bit his lip, averting his eyes once he realized that he had accidentally worded his thoughts.  
With a goofy smile, Steve led Bucky to the edge of the boardwalk to one of the wooden benches that was still unoccupied. The two settled down there and Steve's hand found Bucky's leg immediately, resting there gently. The look on Bucky's face was familiar: Steve knew that he needed to give Bucky a moment to gather his thoughts. It was one of the post-Winter-Soldier things that Steve had had to get accustomed to but now that he had, it was just another part of Bucky and that meant that Steve didn't mind it in the slightest.

Bucky's right hand settled down on top of Steve's gently, Bucky's slightly larger hand covering Steve's completely.

"I haven't had this much fun since before I enlisted. In fact, I haven't had this much fun on any of the dates I've been on before." Bucky admitted, lifting his head to look at Steve whose smile was a mixture of surprise and happiness.

"Same here, Buck." Steve assured him, moving their hand until their fingers were entwined tightly.

"You never had any fun on those dates anyway Stevie." Bucky mumbled.

Shocked, Steve averted his eyes, wondering when Bucky had figured that out. In his mind, Steve had always been very good at hiding the fact that he had only gone on all those double-dates for Bucky's sake.

"Steve."

When Steve didn't look at him, Bucky turned Steve's head in his direction with his left hand, gentle as ever even with the prosthetic. "Back then, I thought that you didn't have fun 'cause you were nervous or something. I didn't have a clue that it was 'cause it was hurtin' you."

"Buck." Steve's face softened, "It's okay. It's in the past."

"What I'm tryin'a say is that I'm sorry for hurting you. You know that I don't ever wanna hurt you Stevie."

"I know."

"So here's me trying to make sure that you never gotta watch me go on a date with another gal or fella."  
Before Steve could quite grasp the weight of what Bucky meant by that, Bucky's lips were on Steve's, moving almost urgently against his. Steve returned the kiss willingly, his fingers tightening around Bucky's hand. If Bucky chose not to ask Steve the question; if he chose to leave it at just the kiss with which to ask Steve permission, that would have been perfectly fine with Steve because Bucky's intentions and his feelings translated beautifully into the way he was kissing Steve. It made Steve dizzy, forced him to lean into Bucky even more just to keep himself from losing his balance.

"I wanna be selfish." Bucky whispered against Steve's lips, "Lemme be selfish Stevie. Don't want you to love someone else ever again. Not like this. Not like you love me."

"Don't want you loving someone else either Buck." Steve admitted, pulling away from Bucky's lips in favour of seeing Bucky's face. Bucky looked dizzy himself, his eyes searching Steve's face almost as if he was trying to convince himself that Steve was really sitting in front of him.

"Then… will you? Will you be my boyfriend Stevie?"

"What do you think, jerk?" Steve rolled his eyes, much like he used to when they were still teenagers in school. And just like Steve had so often wanted to back then, he pulled Bucky in by the hem of his leather jacket and kissed him hard.

* * *

Bucky looked out the window, watching the streetlamp below. Truthfully, he wasn't really doing much watching, more daydreaming really. Steve and Bucky had gotten home way after sunset, both exhausted and ridiculously happy. He'd gone for a shower first before settling down in his queen-sized bed with Flake at his feet, rolled into a surprisingly compact ball of white fur. He let the day play back in his mind over and over again, a silly sort of smile on his face while he did so.

He hadn't been this happy in absolute years. In fact, the only times he had ever felt this happy, from what he could remember, was when he was with Steve. The man Bucky had been before Hydra still seemed unfamiliar to him in some ways and he caught himself wondering why that Bucky hadn't tried to hold onto Steve more. He wondered why he had been too scared to tell Steve the truth about how he felt before leaving with the 107th.

Maybe it had been the fact that losing Steve before going off with the military had been the most terrifying thing he could have ever imagine back then. Now, the most terrifying thing he could imagine was forget Steve again. Steve was a part of him and if he forgot Steve, he'd lose a part of himself. If he forgot Steve, he could no longer be there for Steve, he couldn't give Steve what he wanted, he couldn't make sure that Steve was happy. And Steve not being happy? Well that was just about the worst thing Bucky could imagine- worse than what Hydra did to him, worse than any of his nightmares.

Bucky was yanked out of his thoughts by a gentle knock on the door. Flake perked up, her wagging tail signalling that it was Steve at the door.

"Come in Stevie." Bucky called out. His stomach did an excited little flip when Steve walked in. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a white tank top. That man looked far too good for his own good- for _Bucky's_ good.

"Had a good shower?" Bucky forced out, noting that Steve's hair was still damp and that his cheeks were still coloured an inviting rosy red.

"Yeah!" Steve grinned, "It's exactly what I needed after today."

"Yeah. Felt the same." Bucky agreed.

Steve was lingering in the doorway rather awkwardly, not sure whether he should come in or not. For what it was worth, Bucky definitely seemed to want him around judging by the smile on his handsome face. It was just, the dynamic between the two of them had changed and Steve wasn't quite sure how to act now.

"I uh, came to say thank you for today. I had a really great time." Steve explained, rocking back and forth from heel to toe nervously, watching the way Bucky's eyes kept sweeping across his body before returning to his face.

"Thank you for saying yes to coming with me, doll."

"Sure." Steve spluttered, feeling heat rise into his cheeks and nose.

"Hey, doll?"

Steve felt more and more heat rise into his cheeks and he had to bite down on his lip to compose himself when he looked up at Bucky.

"What's up?" He asked, trying his hardest to sound casual.

"C'mere a second."

Hesitating for only a moment, Steve obliged, bowing his head again while he made his way over to Bucky's bed in large strides.

As soon as Steve was within reach, Bucky's now bare metal hand took a hold of the back of Steve's head, pulling him down so that Bucky could crash his lips against Steve's.

* * *

Short chapter but I had to divide the date chapter into two; I hope that didn't make it awkward or anything.  
So here's where I need your guys' help.

What would you like to see happening going forward from the last scene in this chapter? I was thinking that the next chapter starts off shortly after the end of this one. I'm going to write the next chapter solley based on what you guys wanna read so... don't be shy, let me know what kind of chapter the next should be.

Well, thank you guys for reading! And I'll see you again next week!


	29. Chapter 29

Hey everyone! Okay so I adored this chapter! I had so much fun writing it! I've wanted to put in this specific scene for a while now and I finally found a good point in the story to do it!  
So I really, really hope you enjoy it!

* * *

 **Chapter 29**

Steve's head was spinning.

At his back, the soft mattress embraced him while his front was pressed against Bucky who was leaning over him like a warm blanket. Steve's hands were roaming greedily, taking in the dips and bumps of Bucky's abdomen appreciatively. Bucky's taught muscles felt good against Steve's fingertips- a feeling the blond wanted to indulge in for as long as Bucky let him.

Their kisses were desperate; a mixture of adoration and an almost anxious want to convey what either of the two was feeling inside. Despite their messy kisses, their lips slotted together seamlessly, their bodies working perfectly together, like two opposite pieces fitting together perfectly.

The dull lamp on Bucky's nightstand was casting a golden glow over the two men while the moon shone like a lantern in the night sky outside Bucky's bedroom window.

Beneath Steve's calloused hand, Bucky's stomach rose and fell with the shallow breaths that he tried to take between kisses. Steve's other hand was curving around the bend of Bucky's ribcage, the tips of his fingers pushing into Bucky's skin, begging him to come closer, to stay. In response to the pressure against his back, Bucky scooped one arm beneath Steve, using it to lift Steve up towards him, pushing their torsos together. Steve smiled against Bucky's lips, giddy from the absolute joy of being able to do this with the man he loved.

It felt to Steve as though he was in a warm cocoon filled with Bucky's scent, with the feel of Bucky and the taste of Bucky. It was like Bucky was surrounding him, enrapturing him like a soft blanket in winter. All the new impressions and feelings rushing through him were almost intoxicating, making his throat dry and his head fuzzy.

Steve felt like a puzzle that had been incomplete for all this time, finally completed by that one puzzle piece named James Buchanan Barnes.

Everything made sense. Everything felt right.

Every touch, every sensation and every sound was committed to memory as though Steve wanted to paint this. And maybe he did. Maybe he wanted to get the largest canvas he could find and paint the emotions he was feeling in bright oil paint of which the smell would stick to Steve's skin for days to come like a hickey.

Steve was so lost in the feeling of Bucky's warm lips against his that he almost didn't feel Bucky lift him a little higher to work on Steve's tank top, lifting it higher and higher until he could slip it over the blonde's head with one quick movement. Steve whined, annoyed by the loss of contact and demanding more. Bucky chuckled, shaking his head adoringly at his boyfriend's impatience.

With a mischievous smirk, he leant down again, letting his lips ghost across Steve's teasingly before moving along Steve's strong jawline, down to his neck. Steve gasped as soon as Bucky's warm, wet lips touched his neck. His hands froze before twisting away from Bucky's skin in favour of clutching onto Bucky's shirt, trying to make the obstructive piece of clothing disappear.

It didn't take a lot of effort to coax Bucky into letting Steve slip the shirt over his head but once the cool air against his back snapped Bucky back to reality, the brunette froze. He bowed his head, pushing his face into the crook of Steve's neck as if he wanted to hide.

All in one go, the giddiness Steve had been feeling, vanished, leaving a cold emptiness behind. His racing heart almost seemed to slow down dreadingly as his mind cleared. He became suddenly self-conscious of his body, hyper-aware of what he had been doing and what Bucky was now doing. Fear tried to grip at Steve's mind but he fought it off, hellbent on looking after Bucky and making things better again.

"Bucky?" Steve whispered in a trembling voice, "Are you okay?"

Bucky didn't respond. With the way Bucky was leaning over him, it was impossible for Steve to see his face and Steve didn't want to rush Bucky.

Steve's eyes widened.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Steve's question seemed to bring Bucky back to reality because the large man stirred, lifting his head slowly. Bucky averted his eyes, looking ashamed and self-conscious, biting down on his lower lip like a scolded child.

With a gentle push against Bucky's chest, Steve got the former assassin to sit up, allowing Steve to sit down next to him.

On instinct, Steve's hand moved to reach out for Bucky but he managed to stop himself, letting his hand drop into his own lap. With troubled azure eyes, Steve watched Bucky's downcast face, trying to find any clue as to what had gone wrong.

Was their perfect day really going to end like this? After all the wonderful things that had happened…? Had he messed up after all?

Pinching his eyes closed as tightly as he could, Steve pushed those doubts aside, painfully aware that they would only make things worse if he concentrated on them too much. Instead, Steve continued to study Bucky's face, his posture, his hands that were fiddling with his discarded t-shirt that lay between them like an unofficial barrier.

After an almost unbearably long moment of heavy silence, Steve decided to speak up, carefully and quietly, saying, "Buck… you know you can talk to me." Steve paused, swallowing heavily before adding, "Please… please talk to me."

Bucky raised his eyes for nothing more than a moment to assess Steve's facial expression before averting them again, staring down at his black shirt.

"It's just…" Bucky trailed off, working his jaw while he thought of a way to end his sentence. When he failed to find an explanation that didn't sound stupid, he simply gestured to his left shoulder with his right arm. Bucky cringed notably when he heard Steve take in a sharp breath as realization began settling on Steve's mind like a snowball melting down the back of his winter jacket.

"Oh my gosh." Steve exclaimed, scooting closer to Bucky until their legs were a messy tangle of limbs. "Bucky, I… you… How…?" He paused, shaking his head dumbfoundedly, struggling to find the right words to say. "I've seen it before. I know what it looks like." He added after a short moment.

"That time was different to… this." Bucky looked up at Steve now, ready to argue his point were he not met with nothing but compassion and adoration written all of Steve's softened features. Relenting, Bucky let his shoulders drop, his face softening into a sad vulnerable-sort of frown.

"Buck." Steve lifted a hand, brushing Bucky's messy fringe back while a loving smile formed on Steve's lips, "I love you. I love all of you."

"This-." Bucky paused to slap his hand against the metal arm contemptuously, "Isn't a part of me Stevie."

"It is now." Steve corrected him gently, "And I love it. I love all of it."

With careful hands, Steve guided Bucky onto his back where Steve had been lying only moments prior. Bucky was pliant under Steve's hands, following Steve's gentle prompts trustingly, yearning for every touch of reassurance from his boyfriend.

Once Bucky had lain down, his body began to relax slowly, the tightness in his muscles giving way to a heavy sigh that escaped the broad man.  
With a small smile, Steve placed one hand on each side of Bucky's face, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips when he noticed Bucky shift due to the sudden constriction of his movements. Bucky chased Steve's lips when he pulled away and Steve gave in, letting Bucky take as much as he wanted. Their kisses were different now. Bucky felt hesitant, unsure. His kisses were shaky, his lips clumsy as they tried to follow Steve's movements.

After giving Bucky one last, deep kiss, Steve pulled away with a finality that had Bucky waiting expectantly. He shifted to align his head with Bucky's left shoulder. Once he had done this, he felt Bucky stiffen beneath him and he paused, waiting for Bucky to relax a little before proceeding. It wasn't difficult to find the angry white scars running along the edges of Bucky's metal arm, even in the dim light, and once Steve's lips were on his skin, he could very clearly feel the difference between Bucky's smooth skin and the lumpy scars. Bucky gasped and his metal arm jerked, almost knocking Steve in the stomach. "Sorry I-."

"It's okay." Steve hushed Bucky reassuringly, taking Bucky's left hand with his own and intertwining his flesh fingers with Bucky's metal ones. It was the first time Bucky had let Steve hold his metal hand and Steve took a moment to process the way the metal felt between his fingers. He quite liked it actually. Distracted by his thoughts about Bucky's hand, Steve placed another soft kiss on Bucky's scar, making Bucky stir uncomfortably.

"Steve, you don't have to-."

"I _want_ to." Steve cut him off. He breathed out slowly, letting his warm breath caress Bucky's scar and the surrounding skin, making the former soldier shiver.

Steve waited for any more protest from Bucky, letting his lips rest against the scar tissue. When Bucky didn't say anything or try to move, Steve continued to pepper the scarred tissue with long kissing, focusing his undivided attention and adoration on the part of his boyfriend's body that Bucky hated the most.

"I love this." Steve insisted, brushing his nose along the skin to the left of the scar where he knew Bucky could feel it. "I love _you_. Everything about you- all your demons, all the things about you that you hate- I love it all."

The twitch in Bucky's left hand was all the warning Steve got before Bucky moved. He pushed Steve off of him just long enough to sit up before he grasped onto Steve's torso to pull him closer again with near to crushing force. The air was pressed right out of Steve's lungs and he had to gasp for air while Bucky buried his face in Steve's bare shoulder.

He was crying.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, surprised by Bucky's reaction and for a long moment, the world stood still for Steve. He wrapped his arms around the love of his life, resting one hand at the back of Bucky's head where his fingers began to card through his hair comfortingly. A sob escaped Bucky and he clung onto Steve even tighter, metal fingers digging into the skin between Steve's shoulder blades with bruising force. The metal didn't have a good grip on the flat surface of Steve's skin, slipping slightly every few seconds.

"God Bucky." Steve whispered, his voice burdened with so much emotion that he almost sounded like someone else entirely, "Of course I'd love everything about you. Did you honestly think I'd find your arm repulsive?"

"I find it repulsive." Bucky replied in a trembling voice, "I just want to be the way I used to be. I want to be your Bucky, not some sick-minded, broken ex-assassin."

A hot flash of anger surged through Steve, driving his arms to push Bucky away forcibly until he could frame Bucky's face with his hands, pulling him back in. He frowned at Bucky, staring into his stormy, troubled eyes for a very long moment before saying, "You _are_ my Bucky. Yes, you're different compared to the way you used to be before you left with the 107th but so am I! People change Bucky and I don't want you thinking that I love you any less for it you big ol' idiot!" Steve paused, pushing down his angry, frustrated tears before adding, "Because I _adore_ you! I'm with you till the end of the line- remember?"

"Stevie…" Bucky was struck by how raw and earnest Steve's voice was. It soaked through him like ice water, sending chills down his spine. In Steve's eyes, Bucky found that same fiery determination that he had fallen in love with when he had first met Steve and just like that, Bucky felt like that sixteen-year old teenager again, holding his Stevie in his arms.

"Fuck I love you." Bucky gasped.  
Just as Steve opened his mouth to reprimand him, Bucky kissed him with all he had in him because he knew what Steve had been about to say and he _loved_ it. He loved it so, so much! He loved his Stevie. He loved how Steve hated it when people swore. He loved how Steve's lips tasted, how Steve felt. He loved the way Steve got fiercely protective over his friends. He loved how Steve would try to help as many people as possible, going so far as to give an old lady his coat in the middle of winter even if it meant that he would get sick because _c'mon Buck! What was I supposed to do? Just leave her out in the cold? She was shivering Buck! Shivering!_

And suddenly Bucky was no-longer worried about his scarring or his metal arm. If Steve loved his arm, if Steve didn't mind the scarring, then maybe it wasn't that bad.

Maybe he could learn to love it too.

"Steve… I…" He pulled away, pressed to say _something_ to express how undyingly grateful he was to Steve for finding the good in him when he himself had given up on himself.

"It's okay Buck." Steve grinned at him, caressing Bucky's cheek lovingly, "I love you too."

And Bucky would be absolutely damned if he didn't do whatever he could to show Steve just how much he loved that feisty blond of his.

* * *

Gosh this chapters makes me so happy! Happy and in love Stucky is good for my heart.

Anyway! I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think guys!  
Also, thank you so so much for reading this far! It means so much to me! You guys are absolutely amazing!


	30. Chapter 30

Hellooo.

It. Has. Been. Too. Long. And I'm not actually quite sure how to apologise for that. Life just went ahead and got crazy and a lot of things fell by the wayside, including this fanfiction. I am back though and I am happy to let you know that I have finished writing the entire fanfiction, that means there won't be huge delays anymore.  
I promised myself I was going to post the next chapter this year still... so yeah xD  
I hope you guys have an AMAZING start to 2018!  
And... I really hope you enjoy and can forgive me for my lengthy absence!

* * *

 **Chapter 30**  


Flake jumped out of Sam's Mustang gracelessly, trying to figure out how to place her new leg. The metal gleamed in the sun as she moved, the small metal paw scraping across the asphalt a little while she manoeuvred her four limbs in a movement akin to walking. Bucky and Steve watched the dog in quiet amusement, waiting for her to find her footing before joining her on the sidewalk.

"You should start a taxi service." Bucky sauntered over to the driver's window, smirking down at Sam who was rolling his eyes.

"I hate you." Sam joked, chuckling when Bucky's smirk turned into a full-blown grin.

Steve and Bucky turned to the white house when they saw Flake rush past them, bounding across the front lawn, thoroughly enjoying her newly discovered quality of life. The over-excited dog had almost made it to the porch steps when she forgot about her metal prosthetic and tumbled to the floor with a shrill yelp of surprise.

"Hey Robocop. Go save your dog before she breaks that thing Stark made her." Sam took a jab at Bucky, rolling up his window as soon as he had as a precautionary measure. Bucky shot him a dirty look before following Sam's advice and jogging over to his panting dog.

"And I thought she was fast on three legs." Steve muttered to himself, giving Sam a quick wave before the Mustang peeled off the curb with a gurgling roar.

With a light smile, Steve joined Bucky who was crouching beside Flake. She was looking up at him sadly, feigning injury in the hopes of getting attention from her two favourite people.

"You know she's just pretending, right?" Bucky asked Steve when the blond started worrying over her, giving her all the affection and forehead kisses she wanted.

"I know." Steve grinned, enjoying the way her fur felt against his palms.

"You're such a dork." Bucky commented, giving Steve an adoring kiss on the cheek that had the blond blushing violently.

"Not… not in front of…" Steve looked up at Peggy's house, checking the windows to see if Peggy was watching.

Bucky huffed, shoving at Steve so hard that he toppled over, yelping when Flake took the opportunity to pepper his face with slobbery dog-kisses.

"Really Steve, we're two grown-ass men. We ain't in high school anymore."

"I know." Steve conceded, averting his eyes when he picked up on the annoyed furrow of Bucky's brow, "Just not yet alright?"

* * *

After wrestling with Flake a little, Steve joined Bucky on the porch, letting Bucky straighten out his creased and messy clothing.

"You're covered in dog hair." Bucky commented while he straightened out the collar of Steve's V-neck polo shirt.

"Well there's no fixing that now." Steve shrugged, waiting for Bucky to finish so that he could ring the doorbell.

The sound brought forth a mirage of fond memories to Bucky, memories that he now remembered so clearly that it felt to him as though he had never forgotten any of them. The house made him think of afternoons well spent with Steve, pestering him and making him laugh. The smell of freshly baked Christmas cookies wafted through his mind while he thought back to the Christmas carols Peggy always loved to sing. There were so many memoires that demanded Bucky's attention and he yearned to relive every single one of them.

He wasn't given the chance to though.

The woman that opened the door wasn't in any of his memories.

Taking a swift step back, Bucky managed to hide his metal arm behind Steve, sliding two silver fingers through one of the belt loops on the back of Steve's pants. It was only because of that that Bucky felt how tense Steve had become, the sensors on Bucky's arm soaking in all the information about what they were in contact with.

Steve's lower back was stone hard and he was pushing back contemplatively, as if trying to decide whether to stay put or to turn and run.

The woman, whose name still completely alluded Bucky, seemed equally as shocked as Steve but her surprise held more of a positive note while Steve's discomfort and horror stood in stark contrast to the brightness on her face.

She had roundish cheeks and a sharp chin. Her eyebrows were the same blond as her hair and thin, almost too feint to see. Her pink mouth bent into a coy smile while her eyes raked over Steve from top to bottom slowly, shamelessly, appreciatively.

Bucky bristled.

"Hey there Steve." The woman spoke up quietly.

Bucky clenched his jaw, stopping himself from blurting out the next best thing that came to his mind, forcing himself to let Steve take the lead on this one.

"Hello Sharon."

At the mention of that name and the _way_ that Steve had said it, Bucky's mind shorted out for a solid second, taking him back to a hazy memory of Steve telling a still completely dehumanized version of himself about a woman that he had loved but who had been too obsessed with her career to care about Steve. She had hurt Steve... she'd broken his heart.

This was Sharon Carter.

"What are you doing here?" Sharon asked Steve, taking a step closer to him timidly. Her long hair slid over her shoulders and even Bucky had to begrudgingly admit that she was pretty.

"I'm here to visit Peggy." Steve answered in a small voice.

"Peggy?" Sharon looked surprised, "Why're you visiting Aunt Peggy?"

"Aunt Peggy?" Steve frowned.

"Sharon honey, who is it?" Peggy's voice cut the tension in the air like a knife through butter and Bucky felt Steve relax a little.

Moments later, the elderly woman appeared beside Sharon, her warm eyes lighting up when she saw who was standing on her porch. "James! Steve!" Without hesitation, she pulled both men into a hug but Bucky was too hellbent on keeping his fingers in Steve's beltloop to hug her back properly.

There was an uncomfortable feeling building up in Bucky's stomach, like the herald of a bad stomach ache. Thinking back, he could faintly recall having felt like this before. It was a long time ago when Bucky was still chasing skirts and harassing Steve into doing the same. It was on one particular date, when the girl that Bucky had found for Steve had actually taken quite a liking to the feisty blond. It had made Bucky sick to the stomach to image Steve going off with her and doing whatever Steve would do with a girl after a first date, even if it was just a kiss on the cheek and a stuttered goodnight.

This time around though, Bucky didn't have alcohol in which to drown that feeling of selfish possessiveness and now that he was free from Hydra's mind control, his brain-to-mouth filter seemed to have suffered and so Bucky wrung with himself to keep quiet.

"Sharon, this is Steve." Peggy pointed to Steve before motioning to Bucky and saying, "And this here is James but his friends-."

"Just James." Bucky interrupted stiffly, removing his metal hand from Steve's belt loops to hold it out for the woman to shake.  
Upon seeing Bucky's bare cybernetic arm with all its shifting plates and the blood red star on its side, Sharon hesitated, looking equally as shocked as she did horrified.

Bucky arched an eyebrow at her, his protruding eyes daring her to be rude enough to turn down the offer to shake his hand.

Visibly flustered and uncomfortable, Sharon hesitated for a considerable moment before taking Bucky's hand and giving it a weak shake. The sensors covering the metal palm sent Bucky the information that Sharon's hand was shaking.

If that gave him a sense of satisfaction- no one needed to know.

Bucky's gesture ripped Steve out of his shock and he became acutely aware of the tension radiating off of his boyfriend. Flake had noticed it too because she was edging closer to Bucky in an attempt to comfort him, shoving her wet nose against the back of his flesh hand.

* * *

Bucky watched Sharon carry a tray full of tea over to the coffee table in Peggy's living room. She smiled at Steve as she put it down, worrying over the tray senselessly in order to stay around Steve a little longer before retreating to the kitchen to help Peggy.

Bucky's skin felt like it was on fire. He wanted to kiss Steve, show Sharon to back the hell off but Steve had been clear about how he wanted Bucky to act around Peggy and so he was going to do just that- he didn't want to upset Steve.

Once Peggy had brought the plate of freshly baked brownies to the table, the quartet settled down for some tea and coffee.

Bucky drank his coffee black, hoping it would be bitter enough to snap him out of his mood. Steve on the other hand, had a green tea without milk but with a little bit of sugar. Sharon had made a big show out of how she still remembered what tea Steve enjoyed drinking.

"So where do the two of you know each other from?" Peggy enquired curiously, nestling her porcelain cup in her hands carefully, enjoying the warmth it gave off.

"Oh!" Sharon lit up like a Christmas tree, much to Bucky's annoyance, "I met Steve at a political function! Shield's Strike Team had been called in for security on that day because Nick Fury was going to be making an appearance there. At the time, Steve was the captain of the Strike Team. Everyone called him Cap because of it." She giggled, "I couldn't really help _but_ go talk to him considering how handsome he looked in his uniform." She paused, flashing Steve a blinding smile, "Tell Peggy what happened next Stevie."

Bucky felt his metal arm want to twitch so he put his cup down and stuffed his metal hand into his hoodie pocket angrily, clenching it where no one could see what he was doing.

"We exchanged numbers." Steve replied stiffly, chewing his lip nervously.

"Don't be so shy!" Sharon giggled, "You haven't changed one bit Steve!" She took a large sip from her coffee, putting in a thoughtful pause before filling in the parts Steve had chosen to omit. "He asked me out on a date about two weeks in and I said yes. Things went so well that it was only a matter of time before we became official."

"Oh!" Peggy exclaimed, her eyes panning between Sharon and Steve for a moment, "I didn't realize you knew each other that well. In fact, I didn't know you knew each other at all." Peggy's eyes found Bucky's and she held eye contact for a moment before sighing, averting her eyes to look at Steve when he started talking.

"Well Sharon never told me she was your niece."

"Well I didn't exactly think that you were friends with my aunt. I mean you mentioned Peggy but it could just as well have been another one." Sharon defended herself, waving at Steve dismissively as though he was being silly, "Between your talking about Sam and your endless stories about your long lost best friend who died overseas- it was difficult to keep track."

Flake, who had been lying at Bucky's feet, jumped up with a bark just as Bucky's metal hand tore its way through his hoodie pocket, the shoulder plates spasming, snapping the arm to the side violently. Bucky gritted his teeth and bowed his head, rounding his back as though he had been punched in the stomach.

Dutifully, Flake pushed her nose against Bucky's right hand, the wetness of it usually snapping Bucky out of his daze.

He didn't respond.

"Buck?" Steve whispered, bowing his head and edging closer to his boyfriend carefully, "You don't gotta say anything, just… give me a sign if you're still with me."

Bucky gave a weak nod, his head sinking a little lower.

A mixture of panic and anger rose up in Steve's gut, making his stomach ache.

"Did I say something wrong?" Sharon asked quietly, eyeing Bucky warily.

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't bring up old stories." Steve muttered tersely, "Some of them can do more harm than good when spoken about now."

"I don't understand." Sharon cocked her head to the side, annoyance pulling her eyebrows together, "What is going on he-." Her voice broke off when Peggy put her hand on her niece's shoulder to quieten her.

"Bucky do you need to go outside?" Steve ignored Sharon completely, turning his back on her in favour of facing Bucky.

"So you have two friends who have the same name?" Sharon continued obstinately.

"Sharon!" Peggy hissed, "It's enough. Keep quiet for a moment, will you?"

"Buck. C'mon. Work with me here." Steve begged him, putting his hand on Bucky's right one gently, stroking his thumb over the back of his knuckles.

The gesture made Bucky want to lash out but he sat through it, waiting for the urge to pass. Once it had, Steve's loving touch drained the tension from Bucky's shoulders and he let out a sigh. Flake backed off, settling back down at Bucky's feet with a groan and a huff.  
Relieved, Steve fell against Bucky's side gently, the contact coaxing Bucky back to reality.  
The ex-assassin raised his head slowly, offering Steve an apologetic smile.  
"Don't even think about saying you're sorry." Steve grinned, "You didn't do anything wrong Buck."

Giving Steve a thankful smirk, Bucky turned his attention to Peggy who was watching him with a concerned frown. "I'm fine." He assured her gently before asking, "Is there anything you have for me to do in the garden? I think I could use the fresh air."

* * *

The late June sun was beating down on the garden mercilessly, catching the metal of Bucky's arm as if it were a disco ball. Bucky and Steve both made quick work of the narrow steps leading down to the garden while Peggy and Sharon took them a little slower and far more gracefully.

"Now," Peggy drew up next to Bucky, putting a hand on his back comfortingly, "The gardening centre down the road brought by some small boulders that I wanted to put at the sides of the flowerbeds."

"That'll look really nice Pegs." Steve commented appreciatively, his bright eyes finding the pile of small, round boulders near the garden gate. The waist-high boulders looked like they had been polished, resembling skipping stones in appearance but not size.

"I can do that." Bucky affirmed, sizing up the boulders in his mind's eye.

"Perfect!" Peggy clapped her hands together happily, "I suppose I'll leave the three of you to it then. I still have some cleaning up to do in the kitchen before my evening telenovela so if you don't mind, I'll be excusing myself." With a vague wave and a smile, Peggy made her way back inside much more swiftly than was allowed for a woman her age.

"Guess I'll start with those boulders then." Bucky mumbled.

"Let me help you with those boulders okay? I think I need the exercise." Steve enthused.

"You're fine." Sharon interjected obnoxiously, "I'll call the gardening centre tomorrow to send over some handymen. They needed three men to carry one of those, I don't think the two of you can pull it off, especially with only three arms. Besides Steve, you're not his babysitter, you don't have to be chained to his side the whole day like you have been." Sharon was joking, Steve knew it but Bucky was practically seething, "Don't you wanna go for a walk so the two of us can do some catching up?"

"Yeah Stevie, go do some catching up." Bucky growled venomously, "I wouldn't wanna make ya feel like you're _chained_ to me." And with that, Bucky marched off towards the boulders with clenched fists.

Once he was sure Bucky was out of hearing distance, Steve turned to Sharon angrily, eyes alight with anger. "What was that?"

"Come on Steve, he's acting like some sort of crazy person."

"He isn't crazy!" Steve said warningly.

"Listen Stevie-."

"It's Steve." Steve interjected shortly, crossing his muscular arms across his chest, "And how about _you_ listen to _me_ for a change Sharon?"

Sharon pulled a face, clearly offended but she stayed quiet, rolling her eyes angrily.

"The two of us are over. You broke up with me because you cared more about your job than our relationship. A relationship isn't something you can pause when its inconvenient and then resume when you feel like it."

"Woah." The surprise in her voice got Steve to follow her gaze, his eyes landing on Bucky who was busy carrying one of the boulders. "I can't believe that handy-capped guy can lift that-."

"His name is Bucky!" Steve snapped, "If you knew a bloody thing about Bucky, you wouldn't be talking about him like that. Yes, he lost his arm- he lost it in an explosion before having a metal one _welded_ to his skin by a Neo-Nazi Organization that tortured him for almost five years."

"Steve-."

"No!" Steve interrupted her mercilessly, his anger getting the better of him,"I'm not done Sharon! That man I told you about? All those stories that used to _annoy_ you because you said I needed to move on? Bucky is that guy!"

Sharon's eyes widened and she looked past Steve at Bucky for a long moment. Then, just as quickly as her surprise came, it vanished again. "So, you're like his VA councillor?" Sharon scoffed defensively, "Is that it? So you really are his babysitter."

"Hey Buck! Mind coming over here for a second?" Steve called over to Bucky who dropped the boulder he had been carrying and jogged over to Steve immediately.

Tensely, he tried to assess the situation, tried to deduce in what kind of state Steve was and what the two of them had been talking about.

One second Bucky could still see Sharon and the next thing he knew, he was being pulled towards Steve. Then, Steve's lips crashed against his in a messy, possessive kiss that made Bucky feel like a teenager all over again. Once he'd gotten over his surprise, Bucky reciprocated the kiss readily, wrapping his arms around Steve possessively, eager to show Sharon just how much Steve didn't _belong_ to her.

"You have got to be shitting me."

Bucky broke the kiss, pulling away from Steve to glare at a horrified Sharon. "You should really watch your language Carter, Steve doesn't like that kind of talk."

Steve watched adoringly as Bucky's signature smirk spread across his face and Steve couldn't help but lean in for another kiss, not caring whether Sharon was there or whether Peggy might see them.

* * *

"Wow Steve… a girl like that, really?" Bucky snickered, watching the clouds dance across a pink and orange sky.

"She isn't usually like that." Steve pointed out, stretching his legs across the grass they were lying on, "I guess she sensed that there was something going on between us."

"Good." Bucky muttered.

"Hey…" Steve paused, moving onto his side so he could look at Bucky. Bucky's arms were jammed behind his head, serving as a pillow. "Were you jealous?"

"Why the hell would I be jealous?" Bucky mumbled, eyes narrowing.

"Then what was with giving her your metal hand? You never do that. And you usually don't mind people calling you Bucky."

"She hurt you." Bucky pointed out evasively, "Course I don't like her for it."

"Is that it?"

Bucky sighed, watching the way Steve's earnest eyes were searching his. "Guess it got to me that she kept trying to hit on you."

"So you _were_ jealous?"

"Not jealous. Protective." Bucky corrected, "I don't want some girl messing with you. You've been through enough."

"Thanks Buck." Steve smiled at him briefly before lying back down on the grass with an airy sigh. Next to him, Steve could hear the grass rustle a little; then a cold arm slid underneath his shirt to wrap around his waist. The contrast in temperature between his sun soaked shirt and Bucky's metal arm made Steve shiver.

"You know what else got me upset?" Bucky leant over Steve, smirking down at a very curious looking man.

"What?"

"I guess I really don't like it when someone else flirts with my boyfriend as if I ain't even there."

"I knew it." Steve grinned, pulling Bucky down for a long kiss, "But Buck… you know that I only care about you in that way, right?"

"I do." Bucky assured him, smiling down at Steve. Then something seemed to cross his mind and he was snickering, letting his head down on Steve's chest.

"What's up?" Steve asked curiously.

"When you told her…"

"What about it?

"Her face." Bucky laughed.

"Buck!"

"No but Stevie! Her _face_!"

Steve shook his head, feeling a chuckle build up in his chest.

"Yeah." He agreed bemusedly, enjoying the sound of Bucky giggling into his shirt.

* * *

Ok so please don't hate me for what I did to Sharon! Dx  
So this was more of a filler chapter I guess but I really hope you still enjoyed it!


	31. Chapter 31

Hey guys!  
First of all: Thank you all for your reviews- they absolutely made my day!  
In other news: I got accepted at an acting school today so I'm gonna start my three-year training in March! (Sorry I'm so excited I just need to share this with EVERYONE!) I hope you guys have an absolutely amazing day!  
Also, I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you what you think!

* * *

 **Chapter 31**

Steve's eyes flew open and his initial rush of excitement was immediately replaced by doubt and caution. His mind instantly took him back to the same day a year before. He remembered how the sun had shone much in the same way it was doing now. He remembered the congratulatory messages, the Facebook posts… But what he remembered most, was the painfully blank look on Bucky's face. He remembered spending the entire day dropping subtle hints while waiting, hopefully, for a spark of realization that never came.  
Not even in the evening when the fireworks started, did anything seem to click with Bucky. It had been quite the opposite actually- Bucky had panicked, unsure as to what was going on. He had rushed to the windows with wide, almost feral eyes, trying to figure out where the bombs were and how to get away from them. Seconds turned into minutes and Bucky had paced the apartment like a caged animal- restless and equally as dangerous.  
It was only once Steve had gently explained to him that the fourth of July was Independence Day, that the fireworks weren't going to hurt him, that Bucky had gradually started to relax and yet, every new explosion had made the former soldier jump. He'd sat in the corner in his bedroom with the curtains drawn whilst rocking back and forth, repeating his army serial number, his name and rank over and over again like a prayer. Steve had almost been able to _see_ the war-heavy memories- nightmares- playing off behind Bucky's glassy eyes that night.

Steve zoned back in when his hand landed on the empty space where Bucky had lain the night before. The grey bedsheet was no-longer warm, leading Steve to assume that Bucky had been awake for a while already. His stomach twisted itself into a merciless knot and he bit his lip, blinking at the sunlight pouring through the bedroom window.

Conflicting emotions warred within him, made him want to bury his head underneath his pillow and let the day pass him by.

He could clearly remember what his birthdays had been like before Bucky had shipped out. He could remember cake at Peggy's and merciless teasing from Bucky. He could remember cheap, self-made presents from his best pal and apple pie from Winifred, Bucky's mother, because she knew that Steve loved her apple pies- they reminded him of the ones his mother, Sarah, used to make when he was younger and so, so frail. He remembered sitting on the roof of Peggy's garden shed with Bucky, watching the fireworks explode into millions of colourful sparks above their head.

He could remember the excitement that had radiated off of Bucky like a contagious disease, his lips mirroring the exhilarated grin on his best friend's face while the sparks from the fireworks reflected in their eyes like fireflies floating above a lake.

Everything was different now.

With a heavy sigh, Steve dragged his large body out of the warm bed. He made his bed half-heartedly, forgetting to smooth out the blanket the way his mother had taught him to.

He pulled over a pair of grey jogging pants and an obscenely tight blue Underarmour shirt that he usually only wore to go jogging. He paused at the door, taking a moment to scrutinize his reflection in the mirror.

He didn't look as tired as he had on his birthday the year before. The dark rings under his eyes were gone and he dare say his eyes seemed to shimmer a little. He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down, grumbling moodily when it stood back up in a stubborn cow-lick.

* * *

A quick trip to the bathroom later, and Steve was standing in the hallway between the bathroom and his bedroom stiffly, breathing in and out slowly to compose himself. If Bucky still didn't remember Steve's birthday, he had to make sure that he played it off convincingly. The last thing Steve wanted was for Bucky to feel guilty- he already had enough guilt to deal with without beating himself up over forgetting his boyfriend's birthday.

Taking one more deep breath, Steve forced a smile onto his face before marching into the living area with as much confidence as he could muster up.

The smell of freshly fried eggs registered immediately, and his stomach announced itself with an obnoxious growl, demanding to be fed. Resting a hand against the flat of his stomach, he passed the couches, where Flake was fast asleep, and walked into the kitchen.

It was a wonderfully familiar sight- Bucky pottering around in the kitchen, preparing breakfast while he hummed a quiet tune to himself. It made Steve's chest swell up and his smile became effortless. He was tempted to stay hidden for a little longer and enjoy the domesticity of it all, but he was afraid that he would give Bucky a fright unwittingly by lurking around soundlessly near the kitchen.

"Morning Buck." Steve took a deep, appreciative breath, "What'cha making?"

"Breakfast." Bucky replied flatly, shooting Steve a sarcastic smirk, "What's it look like, punk?"

"You know what I meant ya big jerk." Steve shot back, cocking an eyebrow at Bucky when the latter chuckled.

"Well, Mr. Rogers, today I have prepared some fried eggs and bacon with some baked beans and sausage for us both." He waved the spatula in the air comically, grinning when Steve started laughing.

"Any special occasion or why are we eating like kings today?" Steve enquired, trying to sound as casual and off-handed as possible despite the way his heart was fluttering in his chest nervously.

"Do I need a special occasion to treat my best man right?" Bucky asked, wide innocent eyes reflecting the genuineness of the question.

"No." Steve replied, feeling a pang of disappointment settle down in the pit of his stomach like a tummy ache. He could feel his facial features derailing and he bowed his head, masking the gesture with a faux yawn. "You're right." He added helplessly, "Thanks Buck. Let's eat!"

* * *

"You okay, Stevie?"

Steve was brought back to reality abruptly and he blinked, nodding before even completely registering Bucky's question. A calloused hand was placed over Steve's and the blond looked up from his plate, smiling at a concerned-looking Bucky.

"Are you sure you're okay, pal? You've been really quiet all morning."

"I had a bit of a rough night." Steve lied, damning himself to hell for lying to his best friend and now boyfriend. He just didn't know of any other way to cover up his disappointment. He told himself that he was lying to Bucky to protect him, to make sure that he didn't have yet another thing to feel guilty about.

"Well, we can get an early night tonight!" Bucky offered cheerfully but his smile faltered when Steve huffed a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head, "Or not?"

"It's pretty much impossible to get an early night on the fourth of July, Buck."

The puzzled expression on Bucky's face rammed figurative dagger into Steve's chest. Reminiscent of the way his lungs used to spasm during an asthma attack, Steve's chest tightened uncomfortably, making him squirm. He averted his eyes, pretending to check whether there was still any food left on the table in order to escape Bucky's curious eyes.

"Anything special happening tonight that I don't know about?" Bucky enquired when Steve had failed to answer his unspoken question.

"Fireworks, Buck." Steve replied blankly. He cringed when he saw Bucky stiffen slightly and he sighed, offering Bucky a remorseful smile. "I'm just tired." He explained himself, "Sorry for getting impatient."

"No, it's okay." Bucky waved off Steve's apology, brushing his fingers over the top of Steve's hand to calm him down. He was watching Steve searchingly, his eyes narrowing questioningly. The moments ticked by until Steve had to avert his eyes, the weight of Bucky's gaze becoming too heavy for him to bear.

"So… what are the fireworks about?" Bucky finally asked with a soft voice laced with hesitance.

"The fourth of July is Independence Day. People celebrate it by letting loose a whole bunch of fireworks."

"Nice." Bucky seemed to take Steve's explanation in stride and with that, the topic seemed to have been concluded for the brunet. He got up, stacking plates to take them to the dishwasher while Steve bit his tongue to stop himself from either screaming or pouring his heart out to his best guy.

"So last week I promised Peggy I would help her scatter some fertilizer on her lawn." Bucky spoke as he worked in the kitchen, his back turned on Steve who was still sitting at the table, staring into space, "I was gonna go by there today and do it for her."

"That's real nice of you Buck." Steve tried his best to sound more upbeat than he felt. It seemed to work because Bucky continued throwing the dirty dished into the sink after only a short pause.

"Yeah well, I figured I might as well get it over with and seeing as we ain't doing anything special today, I thought I might as well head over there."

Steve gritted his teeth, focusing on supressing the tears that were stinging in his eyes. He took a deep breath before letting it out soundlessly while his eyes ventured, trying to find something he could use as a distraction, something that could anchor his mind. It was then that he realized that he was letting Bucky clean the dishes after he had spent all morning making breakfast.

"Get out of the kitchen Buck." Steve spoke up with a new-found determination, getting up and stepping around the table to stand behind Bucky at the sink.

Bucky simply chuckled dismissingly, submerging his metal hand while he fished for something to clean in the milky water.

"I'm being serious Buck!" Steve exclaimed, shoving at Bucky's shoulder gently to get his attention, "You made breakfast so the least I can do is clean the dishes. Besides, I know how much you hate getting food rests stuck in your metal arm."

"It does suck to get them back out of the plates…" Bucky pondered quietly, "Surprised you remember me mentioning that once." He abandoned the dishes to turn around, leaning his lower back against the edge of the countertop, giving Steve a lazy smile.  
Steve felt his lips mirror the smile Bucky was wearing. He moved his hands until they were straddling Bucky's waist gently. He quite liked how that felt- he could feel Bucky's tight abdominal muscles despite the shirt.

"O'course I remembered, Buck."

Bucky leant forward to give Steve a kiss, humming against Steve's lips appreciatively. He enjoyed the way Steve tasted of the hot chocolate he had had for breakfast.

"Well, if my sap of a boyfriend insists on doing the dishes, then I guess I'd better let 'em." Bucky muttered.

"Well yeah." Steve smirked, "I mean, otherwise I'd have to wrestle you for it and I'd hate to have you lose."

"God, you cocky little punk." Bucky shook his head incredulously, giving Steve another endeared kiss.

"I've always been this way." Steve pointed out, snaking his way around Bucky until he was standing between Bucky and the sink. With a triumphant smile, Steve turned his back on Bucky to get to work, submerging both of his big hands in the dishwater.

Bucky let out a resigned sigh, leaning his chin on Steve's shoulder, watching Steve's deft fingers wash the dishes in practiced movements.

"I'm gonna call Sam." Bucky mumbled distractedly, nuzzling into the crook of Steve's neck, enjoying the way Steve smelt of aftershave.

"What for?"

"Well I gotta get to Peggy somehow, right? Don't think m'ready to take the subway by myself yet."

"I'll take you." Steve offered willingly, stopping his dish-washing to look at Bucky over his shoulder, "I texted Sam about whether he wanted to come over tonight, but he said he had work so I assume he'll be busy all day today."

"What'd you invite him over for?" Bucky asked curiously, leaning his entire upper body against Steve's back, smiling when he noticed how Steve wanted to give out under the weight.

"Uh… we always watch the fireworks together… it's a… fourth of July thing…"

"Oh okay." Bucky took his chin off of Steve's shoulder, "Thanks for taking me then Stevie, that's real swell of you."

"Anytime Buck."

* * *

The train ride to Peggy's house was quiet.

Normally, Bucky and Steve would talk the entire way, but Steve couldn't quite get himself to talk. Bucky stopped questioning it after checking with Steve on three different occasions whether he was fine. It almost disappointed Steve that Bucky stopped asking and yet, it made him feel relieved, knowing that the chances of slipping up were greatly reduced without Bucky's incessant questions.

To avoid feeling awkward, Bucky busied himself with Flake for most of the ride, fussing over her _Service Dog_ vest until it sat just right. Steve watched him, allowing his mind to wander while he studied Bucky's face and the way his lips pursed in frustration when the vest didn't bend to his will straight away.

Steve noticed that the worry lines on Bucky's face had lessened and that the shorter hair made him look a lot younger than he had looked with long hair. Despite the slight differences, he looked almost exactly like he had the day before he shipped out. It made Steve feel reminiscent, the slight sparkle in Bucky's eyes keeping Steve's melancholy at bay.

"Hey Buck?"

Bucky looked up, startled by Steve's deep voice. His eyebrows travelled towards his hairline in a question, his mouth falling open.

"I love you." Steve muttered, reaching out his hand to take Bucky's.

"I love you too Stevie." Bucky replied immediately. The megawatt grin that followed Bucky's words made Steve feel even more guilty for keeping his birthday a secret from Bucky.

Steve averted his eyes.

The walk from the train station was pleasant and familiar and was made even more enjoyable by the warm sunlight streaming down on them. Bucky and Steve quickly fell into a rhythm and Flake matched their pace obediently, her head tilting to the side every now and then to check up on her owner. With fingers entwined and hands swaying back and forth, the two arrived at Peggy's house shortly after two o'clock in the afternoon, accompanied by a gentle breeze that whipped around them, roughing up their hair.

* * *

Steve frowned, pulling Bucky to a stop on the sidewalk in front of the house.

Peggy's front lawn was occupied by four cars that he was completely unfamiliar with. He knew the makes- Mercedes, Ford and Toyota- but he couldn't remember having seen any of them at Peggy's house before. All the number plates were from New York, but he still didn't recognize any of them.

"Was today not a good day?" Bucky asked unsurely, edging further away from the house, "Maybe I should have called first?"

"She doesn't usually have this many visitors." Steve frowned confusedly, "Maybe we should just pop in to see whether she needs any help around the house with so many guests."

"Good idea!" Bucky agreed wholeheartedly, taking the lead and dragging his boyfriend and his dog up to the porch and pushing down on the doorbell without a moment's hesitation.

"I'm on my way, just give me a short moment, please."

Steve and Bucky smiled at each other fondly, relishing the sound of Peggy's grandmotherly voice and her strong British accent. Despite the many years she had spent in America, her accent had never softened, becoming something that reminded Bucky and Steve of the feeling of home, happiness and well-spent summers.

Steve straightened when the door opened, and he gave Bucky's hand a quick squeeze- a silent promise not to let go.

Peggy's hair was done up in intricate braids, pinned into place by red flower pins that glistened in the light. Her matching red dress was probably tighter than most women her age preferred and yet it suited Peggy as it would have were she twenty years younger. Her lips, as always, were red, bringing out the dazzling white of her teeth.

"Wow." Steve gestured to Peggy with a hand, "You look absolutely amazing Peggy!"

"Oh stop it." She waved a hand at him playfully, giggling like a young girl when both Bucky and Steve shook their heads vehemently.

"Steve's right there, Pegs- I'd take you out to dance if I wasn't already taken." Bucky smirked charmingly earning a playful finger-waggle from Peggy.

"There he is- James Barnes as we know and love him." Peggy grinned, pulling the boys into her arms so that she could pepper their faces with kisses after which both men had to wipe lipstick off their cheeks and foreheads.

"So… what's the occasion?" Steve asked weakly, feeling suddenly fragile and as though everyone had better things to do on his birthday than celebrate with him.

"Oh!" Peggy lit up, her chocolate eyes shining like the fireworks would in a couple of hours, "I'm having some old friends over!" She announced in a sing-song voice, "I'd love for the two of you to meet them! Come on, come on!" She beckoned the men inside with wide hand-gestures that had both Steve and Bucky chuckling.

Even before leaving the entrance area, Steve could smell the unmistakable fragrance of tea and coffee mixed with the smell of freshly baked cookies. He licked his lips, smiling at Bucky who was watching Steve with a strange look on his face.

"Now, behave you two." Peggy warned them before leading the two into the living room.

* * *

I really hope you guys liked it! Let me know what you think~

See you soon!


	32. Chapter 32

Hey guys!  
So this chapter is a little longer. Chapter 31 and 32 used to be one chapter but I had to split them up and this one got the majority of the writing.  
I also apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes- I am dead tired xD

* * *

 **Chapter 32**

"Surprise!"

Steve froze in the doorway to the living room, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He hadn't even taken in all of the people present before his attention was drawn in by the colourful banners and _Happy Birthday_ balloons floating around the ceiling like colourful clouds with strings.

"What's… what's going on?" Steve asked breathlessly, looking from the decoration to Bucky who was grinning at him.

"You didn't think I forgot your birthday, did ya Stevie?"

A weight fell off of Steve's shoulders and he started laughing, falling into Bucky's side while his happiness continued to bubble over without his permission.  
Bucky remembered! Not only did Bucky remember, but all of his friends had planned a surprise birthday party for him! He was overcome with joy, the sort of joy that he hadn't felt in years. Teary-eyed and giddy, he pulled away from Bucky to look at his applauding friends. Standing in a half-circle around Steve were Tony and a ginger-haired woman; Clint, Natasha and Sam, Dum-Dum and another one of his former SWAT comrades, Falsworth. Even Dr Bruce Banner and Steve's former boss, Nick Fury were present.

"Thank you, guys." Steve stuttered sincerely, his cheeks turning a rosy pink, "This means so much to me!"

Sam, Natasha and Clint were the first ones to break away from the crowd, each giving Steve a big hug to congratulate him. Clint quickly disappeared into the crowd again to fuss over Flake, soon joined by Natasha who wanted to have a closer look at Tony's prosthesis for the dog.

Flake greeted Natasha and Clint like family, wagging her tail enthusiastically when the two knelt down next to her, her tongue lolling out of her open mouth lazily.

"Well, well- look who fixed Dr Brainwash." Tony sauntered up to Steve and Bucky casually, "Also, you guys are a sickeningly cute couple- which needs to stop. Pepper and I need to be the cutest."

"Don't listen to him." The beautiful redhead drew up next to Tony, hooking her arm with his confidently, "My name is Pepper Potts. It's so nice to finally meet you- I've heard so much about you both!" She shook Steve's hand firmly before doing the same with Bucky, not even flinching when he gave her his left hand to shake because his right one was occupied.

"I hope Tony's only told you the good stuff." Steve said with an easy smile.

"Only the best." She assured him with a wink.

"So, you're the remarkable woman who manages to keep this tyrant in check?" Bucky nodded his head in Tony's direction, looking especially self-satisfied when Tony shot him a glare.

"Something like that." Pepper agreed with a giggle, looking over at Tony adoringly while the dark-haired man continued to glare at Bucky as fiercely as he could.

"I think I liked you better when you didn't know how to talk." Tony muttered, cringing when Pepper rammed her elbow into his side reproachfully, hushing him angrily.

Steve watched Bucky curiously, wondering what his boyfriend's reaction to Tony's jab would be. Much to Steve's delight, Bucky smirked, waving off Tony's retort with a casual, "You ain't seen nothing yet, Stark."

"Well," Pepper cocked an eyebrow at Tony, "He is a handful."

"Just a handful?" Bucky quipped.

"Damnit Barnes!" Tony threw his hands up in the air dramatically.

"But Bucky's right;" Steve interrupted Bucky and Tony in hopes of keeping things civil between the two men, "you're definitely a remarkable woman. It was a pleasure meeting you Pepper."

"Thank you both." Pepper smiled, "Well, I'd hate to steal all of your time, I'm sure there are others waiting to talk to you. Besides, Tony's getting hungry and he's unbearable when he's hungry." She ignored Tony's indignant complaints, giving Bucky and Steve quick hugs before saying, "Congratulations on your Birthday Steve! And thank you for the invitation James."

"Please, call me Bucky." Bucky offered.

" _Or_ you could call him Dr Brainwash." Tony chipped in, batting his eyes at Pepper.

Pepper rolled her eyes, dragging her boyfriend away with the words "I'm not adopting your stupid nicknames for everyone, Tony."

"They are way cuter than us." Bucky conceded, sounding so horrified by this, that Steve couldn't help the guffaw that escaped him.

* * *

They had made it halfway through the living room when Bucky and Steve were cornered by Dum-Dum who had brought Falsworth as well, the Frenchman making a big show out of seeing Steve again.

Seeing his old SHIELD comrades again, especially on an occasion like this, made Steve even more giddy. His cheeks had begun to ache as a result of how much he was smiling, and a dull burn was developing in his diaphragm from all the laughing he was doing.

"It has been far too long!" Falsworth whined, wrapping both arms around one of Steve's thick arms and jostling him a little, "How have you been Steven?"

"Busy." Steve confessed with a chuckle, "But better. A lot better." With those words, he turned to give Bucky a thankful smile- a smile that was happily reciprocated until Bucky was being spoken to.

"It's good to finally meet you in person Sergeant Barnes." Dum-Dum shook Bucky's hand, also without flinching or giving the metal appendage much of a reaction at all. His broad smile was warm and contagious, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

"You… kinda seem familiar." Bucky admitted, eyes narrowing while he gave himself a moment to think before turning to Steve when his mind didn't come up with anything helpful, "Should I be remembering something?"

Before Steve could reply, Dum-Dum raised his hand, jumping at the opportunity to explain, "Strictly speaking, we've met before. It's been over a year though, closer to the beginning of your rehabilitation. I also accompanied Cap to that Hydra base. I was the one that got shot."

"Oh. Right." Bucky nodded, "Sorry for not remembering you."

"No hard feelings!" Dum-Dum clapped Bucky on the shoulder, "We got the whole evening to share embarrassing stories 'bout the Captain here so I ain't upset at all!"

"Please tell me I'm invited!" Falsworth chipped in, detaching himself from Steve's shoulders in favour of crowding closer to Bucky.

"O'course _you_ are but I know one guy who isn't." Bucky grinned at Steve who gave a self-deprecating laugh. He knew that he was going to regret introducing his former Strike members to his lifelong best friend.

* * *

The garden was set up beautifully with party lights strung up around the edges, just waiting for night time in order to light everything up in bright red, blue and greens. A large foldable table was set out in the middle of the lawn, covered in a disposable tablecloth that had lots of small American flags printed on it.

Steve almost couldn't hold back his laughter when he spotted his former boss, Nick Fury, complete with a _Kiss the Cook_ apron, standing at the grill with Clint and Dr Bruce Banner, each of them nursing a beer while they appreciatively watched the meat sizzle. Natasha had given Flake a large bowl of water and had placed it underneath the table where the dog now lay, sniffing out all the interesting smells around her and listening to the conversations happing at the table. Nat was seated at the table with two people Steve didn't recognize and a third that he did, begrudgingly, recognize.

When Sharon looked up and met Steve's wary glance, she smiled crookedly.

"Why'd you invite her?" Steve asked Bucky, cringing when the young woman got up and began approaching them.

"Just wait and see." Bucky whispered in Steve's ear, straightening up again when Sharon reached them.

"Hey there! Bucky, Steve."

"Hello Sharon." Steve returned the greeting tightly, "What're you doing here?"

"Well, your boyfriend invited me here to celebrate the birthday of a pretty special guy." She explained sheepishly, not oblivious to the frown on Steve's handsome face, "And although I may not have been very fair to you in the past, you still mean a lot to me and I wouldn't miss a special day like this for the world. And… I also needed an opportunity to apologize to you for how I acted… so… if it's alright for me to stop hiding away in the kitchen, I really hope you'll let me stay. And… I hope you can forgive me for being such a..." She hesitated, searching for the right word.

"Bitch?" Bucky offered, almost making Steve choke on his spit.

With a sigh, Sharon nodded, saying, "Yeah… I was kinda acting like a bitch before and… I'm really sorry Steve."

Steve stared at her dumbly for a few seconds until Bucky nudged him gently, snapping him out of it. Realizing that Sharon was waiting for an answer from him, he laughed apologetically, running a hand through his blond hair while he spoke. "Thanks Sharon. I don't really know what to say."

"C'mon Steve just tell her it's fine." Bucky rolled his eyes, making Sharon giggle and Steve blush.

"It's… it's fine. Of course it is!" Steve assured her hastily, pulling her into an awkward hug, "And thank you for coming by."

"Thank Bucky over there." She directed a genuinely endeared smile at Bucky, "He's a really good guy. You went and got yourself a keeper, Rogers." She winked at Steve, giving him a slap on the shoulder before making her way back to Natasha.

Steve watched her go with a light smile, realizing only then how much of a burden the situation with Sharon had been. This short exchange with her had given him the closure he had needed ever since they had broken up, especially after how she had acted in front of Bucky. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

"You did all of this… for me?" Steve turned to Bucky who was yet to take his eyes off of a beaming Steve.

"O'course I did."

"Why?"

"Because you're worth all this, Steve." Bucky answered simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I ain't gonna let you celebrate one more birthday o'yours on your own."

"Bucky… I don't know what to say." Steve admitted tearfully, hands grabbing onto Bucky's grey Henley rather helplessly, fingers pulling on the fabric as if they belonged to a child wanting comfort during a thunderstorm.

"Ya don't gotta say nothing, Stevie." Bucky promised, "Just don't stop smiling the way ya are right now and I'll do this for ya every year if it means I can make you smile like that."

"Now who's the sappy one of us, jerk?" Steve murmured, embarrassed by the deep red blush that was already making its way down his neck.

"So Steve… how far _does_ that blush of yours go?" Bucky teased him suggestively, grinning wolfishly when Steve choked, his blush becoming impossibly darker.

"Get a room you two!" Tony walked past, shoving at Bucky's shoulder so that Steve and Bucky went stumbling back a little.

"I can make this eighteen-plus if you don't stop annoying me, Stark." Bucky countered, propping a rattled Steve up against his chest caringly.

Laughing, Tony looked over his shoulder at Bucky, pulling his sunglasses down to wink at Bucky, who joined in the laughter.

"I find it disturbing that the two of you get along so well." Steve admitted, smoothing down his shirt while he waited for his blush to disappear.

"Would you rather we be fighting?" Bucky questioned, ignoring the eye-roll he got from Steve.

"No. That would probably be so much worse."

"Steve!" Sam's loud voice cut through their conversation.

A look of panic spread across Steve's face, looking so genuine that Bucky was worried for a moment.

"Stop him!" Steve begged Bucky in a hushed tone of voice.

Bucky looked up to see Sam sprinting from the house over to the two of them. Steve was no almost completely hidden behind Bucky's broad back. "Get out'a the way Bucky!" Sam warned, grinning mischievously.

With a light laugh, Bucky sidestepped, shrugging his shoulders at a severely betrayed-looking Steve.

A few seconds later, Steve was tackled to the ground by Sam, the two landing rather roughly on the grass. Steve squirmed and squealed, trying to get away from Sam who was tickling him mercilessly.

"You didn't think I was gonna miss your birthday, did ya?" Sam guffawed, "What part of _I'm my own boss_ don't you understand?"

"Whatever Sam- get off!" Steve begged, his body wiggling from side to side like a trapped worm, the heels of his boots digging into Peggy's lawn.

A flash of a memory passed through Bucky's mind. It was the memory of having done something like that on one of Steve's birthdays. That's right… he loved teasing Steve when it was his birthday. All the attention he would receive on his birthday would already be enough to fluster Steve, meaning that if Bucky actually made an effort to tease Steve, the blond would get that shy, red-faced look that Bucky loved so much... That's why he had always loved to tease Steve… the blush had always suited him so well and Bucky liked that _he_ could put that much colour on Steve's face.

Bucky blinked back to reality when Steve called out to him, begging him to get Sam off him.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky relented, wrapping his right arm around Sam's waist and lifting him off of Steve without much effort.

"Oh come on! Getting your super soldier boyfriend to help you isn't playing fair!" Sam complained, glaring at Steve and Bucky in turn.

"Listen, I gotta go home with Stevie tonight so I gotta do what he says otherwise he's gonna sulk all evening." Bucky defended his actions, feigning innocence.

"I heard that!" Steve mumbled, preoccupied with brushing all the grass and dirt from his clothes.

"Thanks for the invite, by the way." Sam changed the subject casually.

"Sure." Bucky replied, "You were the first one I thought of inviting."

Sam and Bucky shared a smile before Bucky moved to assist Steve in getting all of the dirt off of him.

"I think the food's almost done so I'll see you two later!" Sam announced before jogging off to the table to talk to Natasha eagerly.

"You could have stopped him." Steve muttered, mock-glaring at Bucky half-heartedly. It was difficult to pretend like he was mad at Bucky when Bucky was practically glowing with happiness. He was like a firework all on his own, drawing Steve's eyes to him against Steve's will, enrapturing Steve by showing him all the different colours and shades that he was made up of.

Steve really wanted to draw him.

"I wanted to see what he was gonna do." Bucky grinned, "It kinda reminded me of what I used to do with you."

"Oh." Steve's eyes grew big, "Oh no."

Bucky's grin widened. "Oh yes."

Without warning, Bucky scooped Steve up as though he weighed nothing, hoisting Steve over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The blond gave an appalled yelp, clawing at Bucky's back in an attempt to get back down.

"You _still_ hate that?" Bucky laughed.

" _Yes_!" Steve croaked, "Let me down Buck! Let me _down_!"

"Nope!" Bucky replied, picturing the blush that was spreading across Steve's face. He was aware that others were watching, and he didn't mind- he knew that the attention was going to get to Steve, though.

"Buck!" Steve whined, slapping the brunet on the back, "C'mon! Let me down!"

"Once we get to the grill." Bucky promised, walking his boyfriend over to the grill that was nestled beneath the only tree in Peggy's garden.

* * *

"Ah there's the Birthday boy!" Banner exclaimed once Bucky had placed him safely back on the ground. Flustered and red-faced, Steve glared at Bucky. Bucky could feel himself fall in love all over again.

"Dr Banner!" Steve greeted him with a sheepish smile, turning his attention away from a dopily smiling Bucky.

"Good to see you!" Bruce commented before flashing Bucky a warm smile, "Your condition has improved a lot Sergeant. I'm really impressed."

"It's all thanks to Stevie over here." Bucky insisted, placing a hand against the small of Steve's back.

"Thank you so much for coming!" Steve exclaimed cheerily, trying to divert the attention away from him. By doing so, he had momentarily forgotten about the Director of Shield standing next to Bruce with a pair of metal tongs in his hand.

"Rogers!"

Out of reflex, Steve straightened, standing at attention. Next to him, Bucky only just managed to stifle a laugh while Banner chuckled and Clint grinned bemusedly.

Fury handed the tongs to Clint so that he could give Steve a firm handshake, something he did with Bucky as well.

"How are the two of you holding up?"

The question took Steve by surprise. Usually when Nick Fury asked a question, it was only in order to divulge information that could be of use to him. This question though, seemed like it was asked because Fury cared about the two of them. It was a realization that had Steve almost speechless.

"Good." Bucky took the lead smoothly, having noticed Steve's astonishment, "Steve's been taking real good care of this broken soldier."

"You ain't broken!" Steve snapped to attention, glaring at Bucky angrily.

For what it was worth, it had helped Steve get his voice back.

"We're doing really well." Steve informed Fury after giving Bucky another reproachful look, "We moved into a new apartment, Bucky has his service dog and-."

"And we arrested the last known Hydra operative last week." Fury interrupted, smiling lightly when Bucky and Steve exchanged bewildered glances.

"Does that mean…" Bucky didn't finish his sentence, almost as if he was afraid that if he did, Fury would give a negative, tell him that Hydra was still out there and that he would never be truly safe.

"It means that there is little to no threat to you anymore Sergeant Barnes and even if there is, we now have the intel and the recourses to stop them before they even reach the outskirts of New York City."

It took a moment before the shock on Bucky's face melted away to give way to pure joy.

"Oh my God…" Bucky breathed, dissolving into relieved laughter when he allowed himself to believe what Nick Fury had just told him.

The delight written all over Bucky's face was probably the greatest present Steve had received that day.

The ex-assassin ran his metal hand over his face, as if trying to make sure that he wasn't asleep. His lips were parted in a wholehearted smile and his shoulders shook with the echoes of his laughter.

"It's over." Steve worded Bucky's thoughts, leaning into Bucky's side fondly.

"It's over." Bucky echoed, removing his hand from his face to look first at a beaming Steve and then at a far more composed Nick Fury, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me Sergeant. SHIELD should be thanking you." Fury replied, "Without the information you gave us, we would never have been able to put an end to Hydra's threat to the world."

"Well, if you put it that way…" Bucky paused to let out a short laugh, "It was my genuine pleasure Director Fury."

The Director allowed a small smile before straightening up and giving Bucky a salute.

The gesture surprised Bucky at first but he composed himself quickly, huffing a laugh before returning the salute, a content smile on his face all the while.

* * *

From his seat on Peggy's garden shed, Steve could see all of his friends sitting at the table in the middle of the lawn. The sun had set and the party lights were illuminating the garden in an array of different colours. The grill had cooled down, the coals still glowing in the dark like fireflies. Natasha, Clint and Bruce were gathered around the grill, roasting marshmallows and laughing about something Clint was saying. Peggy, Sam, Sharon, Dum-Dum and Falsworth were listening intently to one of Tony's stories while Pepper looked on with an adoring smile. The two unfamiliar faces turned out to belong to Pietro and his twin sister Wanda, two orphaned Russian teenagers that now lived with Clint and Natasha as their apprentices, helping around the animal shelter. The two had been very shy at first but they had quickly warmed up to everyone and were now laughing along.

"What's going through your mind?" Bucky asked Steve, drawing his attention back to him.

"I don't even know." Steve admitted, "It's just been a really long time since I've been this happy."

"Me too pal, me too." Bucky chimed with a sigh, leaning into Steve's side gently until he could rest his head on Steve's muscular shoulder.

"Thanks Buck."

"Sure thing, Stevie." Bucky hummed, looking up at what he could see of the sky, "So when do these things usually start?"

"So, you really don't remember this part?"

"I'm not sure actually." Bucky admitted sombrely, eyes raised to look up at the stars overhead. He looked thoughtful, so Steve waited.

"I think I used to enjoy the fireworks?" He looked to Steve for confirmation, continuing only when Steve nodded, "I feel like I remember being excited about them. Not so much because of the fireworks though… I used to think that they were less about Independence Day and more about you."

"Yeah?" Steve smiled a silly, reminiscent smile.

"Yeah. I had forgotten all about them until you mentioned them this morning. Guess your birthday was more important to remember than some fireworks."

"You loved the fireworks." Steve recollected quietly, watching the stars now also, "You'd drag me up here every time they started."

"Probably 'cause I told myself every damn year that I'd kiss you when they start. Why the hell didn't I?" Bucky exclaimed, his genuine annoyance making Steve laugh.

"Why _didn't_ you Buck?" Steve teased him, laughing even more when Bucky directed an irate glare at him. Bucky's exasperation only lasted for a short instant before he was chuckling too, shaking his head at Steve's infectious joyfulness.

"So are you gonna tell me what time they start?" Bucky asked Steve, nudging him gently with his shoulder.

"Anytime now." Steve supplied. His legs were dangling off the roof of the garden shed, his foot bumping into Bucky's every now and then. Without a word, Steve entwined his fingers with Bucky's metal ones, giving the sturdy hand a gentle squeeze.

"What's up?" Bucky asked quietly.

"Just making sure that you know that I'm here." Steve explained.

"Why's that?"

But before Steve could answer, a missile was launched into the sky with a shrill screech, followed a burst of red and gold light. Just as Steve had anticipated, Bucky's metal hand clenched with bruising force. The body attached to the cybernetic arm went rigid and Bucky gasped as though someone had just knocked the wind right out of him.

"Buck." Steve turned to Bucky quickly, "Hey…" he rested his free hand on Bucky's cheek gently, letting his fingers caress his skin comfortingly.

"Stevie?" Bucky stuttered, eyes wide and panicked.

"You're fine." Steve assured him caringly, "We're at Peggy's… remember?"

Bucky nodded slowly.

"It's my birthday. You remembered this year. We're here celebrating with everyone. Even Nick Fury is here."

Another missile was launched, and another bang had Bucky wincing visibly, eyes growing wider again.

"Those aren't real missiles. They're not bombs- they're fireworks. It's Independence Day. You're at home. You're safe."

Again, Bucky gave Steve a stiff nod.

"Kiss me?" Steve requested sweetly.

The third explosion made Bucky flinch and duck his head, but the large man did as his boyfriend requested, leaning forward tentatively until their lips fell together in a kiss.

Steve released Bucky's metal hand that immediately took a hold of Steve's shirt, looking for something to hold onto, to ground him. Alternatively, Steve lifted his hands to frame Bucky's face, thumbs caressing his skin lovingly. At first, Bucky was rigid, every new explosion plunging his body into a brief moment of shock before he had to make a conscious effort to relax, acutely aware of the unnatural strength his body possessed. The longer he kissed Steve though, and with the help of the serotonin that was being released into his bloodstream, Bucky's body began relaxing, his mind slowing down from its panicky high. Eventually Bucky was able to focus more on the sensation of kissing Steve than his military training that was yelling things to do with bombs, missiles and danger.

"You always know what works." Bucky muttered once they'd separated, slightly tipsy with the sensation of kissing Steve.

"Lucky guess." Steve smiled.

"Yeah no shit." Bucky exclaimed, smirking when Steve frowned at him, "I got no regrets for that one Stevie."

"Then you get no more kisses tonight." Steve retorted childishly, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Aw come on Stevie." Bucky whined, "Don't be like that."

"I'm gonna be however I wanna be Buck." Steve pursed his lips, "It _is_ my birthday after all."

"Exactly!" Bucky insisted with a charming smile, "It's your birthday Stevie!"

Steve would recognize that smile anywhere. It was the kind of smile that made Steve's heart flutter and made his knees feel weak. It was the kind of smile Bucky always used to smile when taking out girls to the club to dance with them. Even after all of the things that had been done to him, Bucky hadn't lost it after all.

"Stop it." Steve muttered helplessly, feeling his face become increasingly warm.

"Stop what?" Bucky asked innocently.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"I ain't doing anything, doll." Bucky insisted, his hand finding Steve's thigh.

"Is this how you got your way with all your girls?" Steve asked Bucky half-bitterly, noting how the hand on his thigh stalled for a moment.

He could hear Bucky let out a huff of air before his hand began roaming again a little.

"It's how I'm going to treat you. Only you. If I could'a had you back then, I would'a Steve."

"You're just saying that." Steve muttered, keeping his eyes on the fireworks stubbornly.

"I mean it."

Steve knew he did.

"I mean every single word I say to ya Steve. I've never been this sure about something in my entire life. That day I left with the 107th, I saw soldiers kissing their gals goodbye at the station and I wanted to run back to your apartment and kiss you because I was afraid that I'd missed my chance."

Steve swallowed heavily. His heart was beating against his chest and his cheeks were flaming hot by then. With a defeated smile, pushed Bucky down to lie on his back and leant over Bucky, pressing his lips to Bucky's in the gentlest, most intimate kiss that the two of them had ever shared. It was the kiss they should have had all those years back. It was the way they should have kissed before Bucky had left.

It was the way Steve regretted not kissing Bucky as he gave his speech at Bucky's memorial service.

It was the kiss Bucky yearned to share with Steve as he was being strapped to a metal chair and forced to forget.

"I'm sorry that I didn't go the station with you Buck."

"I'm sorry that I left you Stevie."

"You got nothing to apologize for." Steve insisted, "You did the right thing! You probably saved loads of people overseas."

"And you saved me."

Steve pulled away enough to see Bucky's face. His skin was lit up in rainbow colours, his eyes reflecting the sparks from the fireworks.

Steve could remember all of his past birthdays before Bucky had shipped out and yet, none could compare to this one.

* * *

Happy fluffy Stucky for y'all.  
Let me know what you think!


	33. Chapter 33

Hey everyone! I hope you've all had a good weekend so far!  
Thank you so, so much for all your amazing reviews! That put a huge smile on my face! I really appreciate the feedback!  
Well, here you have the next chapter! I really hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 33**

"Is this a bad idea?" Steve asked Sam, lifting his worried eyes to fix his close friend with a look akin to helplessness.

"Are you serious?" Sam raised an eyebrow, watching the way Steve's long fingers were picking at the blueberry muffin he had ordered along with his black coffee. Steve's fingernails were bitten short- a habit he had picked up in his last year of high school.

Sam's hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of espresso of which the taste was still lingering on his tongue.

The café they had taken to frequenting was quiet, the morning rush having only just passed. The smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries hung in the air like the smell of gingerbread and cinnamon at a Christmas market, making the Sunday morning seem just that little bit brighter. The sun was shining through the panorama window in front of which Steve and Sam were sitting, bathing them in greatly appreciated gentle warmth.

"Why would this be a bad idea, Steve?" Sam asked after a short pause.

"What if he doesn't remember them?"

Sam leant back in his chair, giving himself the chance to consider Steve's question before answering. "Judging by the fact that he remembered your birthday last week, I'd say that he will remember them. Maybe they're not present in his mind at the moment but when he sees them, I'm sure it'll click."

"And if it doesn't?"

"If it doesn't, then seeing them will be the first step towards him actually remembering them." Sam assured Steve patiently, smiling at the way Steve was so worried. Steve was a notorious over-thinker; not when it came to himself, but definitely when it came to one James Barnes.

"He'll be thankful." Sam offered one last word of encouragement.

Steve let out a sigh, nodding slowly. He let Sam's words play back in his mind like a mantra while he continued to mutilate his blueberry muffin.

* * *

A while later, once his muffin had been eaten and his coffee was only half full, Steve fished out his smartphone with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart.

He searched his contacts list, looking for a name he hadn't looked up since Bucky's memorial service. Guilt and heartache had stopped him from contacting the number, had made him feel sick just to think of.

Looking at the contact name now made him feel a mixture of guilt and determination that drove him to open a chat window with said contact. His phone immediately supplied past conversations filled with silly emoticons, gifs, hilarity and the name _Bucky_.

Steve's eyes immediately found Bucky's name and he felt his tongue want to form the name like a forgotten promise.

He forced himself to focus on the task at hand and forgo the past conversations and look only at what he was typing, knowing that looking at the past chats would send him plummeting head-first into a pit of melancholy.

Sam watched Steve, noting the way his face screwed up a little while he wrote. His jaw was working, the muscles pulling at the skin covering his cheeks and his eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pressed into a tight line.

"By the look on your face I'm assuming we're doing it today?" Sam enquired gently, his voice coaxing Steve's attention away from the smartphone like a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"Buck's been having a good two weeks. Now is as good a time as any." Steve replied, sending off the message and pocketing his phone immediately, "Besides, I get the feeling that if I don't do this now, I won't ever do it."

Sam could see the tight line to Steve's shoulders. He could see the worry, the fear and the hope flickering in Steve's eyes like a simmering flame. He knew that all of this was just as much about Steve as it was about Bucky.

Sam knew that Steve felt guilty for not having contacted them after Bucky's apparent death and the memorial service held for him.

This was Steve's way of making it up to them. This was Steve's apology.

* * *

Steve grumbled, suppressing the urge to swear while he struggled with his key. He was busy playing with the idea of throwing them out the window when Sam put his hand on Steve's shoulder.

"You need to calm down and at best, stay calm." Sam advised Steve quietly, knowing all too well that Bucky had extremely good hearing, "He's gonna notice that you're tense, and you know how quickly your mood affects him."

Steve had to ruefully admit that Sam was right- Bucky had always been sensitive towards other people's moods and feelings and the super soldier serum paired with his hypervigilance gave Bucky all the tools he needed to improve that skill of his.

A moment of introspection on Steve's part brought the tightness in his back to his attention and he could feel the frown on his face. He took a deep breath before letting it out slowly, the way he used to before firing a shot while he was still an agent at SHIELD.

"This is a good thing." Sam assured Steve, "Bucky's gonna be really grateful to you."

"What if they hate me for how I acted?"

Sam gave Steve a long look. So that's what was making Steve so nervous. Steve knew that they would accept Bucky with open arms- of course they would. But Steve? After disappearing from their lives after the memorial service and then never talking to them again until now?

"You're bringing Bucky back to them." Sam pointed out, giving Steve's shoulder a squeeze, "It'll be fine!"

Steve nodded stiffly, grasping onto the words like a lifeline. "You're right." Steve stated, hoping he sounded more convinced than he felt, "This is a good thing." He repeated Sam's words, smiling weakly when his friend nodded at him.

With one last, calming breath, Steve pushed the key into the lock and turned it, listening to the way the apartment door clicked open.

"Bucky?" Steve closed the door once they had made it through, "I'm home! Sam's with me!" The habit of announcing himself to Bucky and making sure that he knew exactly who was with Steve, had become a fixed part of their day to day life. Despite Bucky's much healthier state of mind, it still gave him a sense of security despite the threat from Hydra having become zero to none.

As usual, Flake beat Bucky to Steve. She greeted him with dog-kisses and propeller-like movements of her tail. Once she was done with Steve, she moved on to Sam enthusiastically, soaking up all the attention she could get. Meanwhile, Bucky had made his way from his room to Steve, greeting his boyfriend with a warm hug and a peck.

"How was breakfast?" Bucky asked Steve with a carefree smile.

"Good." Steve replied briskly, cringing inwardly when he noticed how hoarse his voice sounded. The light twitch of Bucky's eye showed that he had noticed as well but obviously, he chose not to mention it.

"You ready to go?" Sam interjected casually, twirling his car keys around his index finger.

Bucky visibly perked up, his attention shifting from Steve to Sam immediately.

"Where are we going?"

"Well…" Steve spoke up again, quieter this time to hide the strain in his voice, "It's kind of a surprise."

"Yeah?" Bucky's eyes lit up even more, "Like the Coney Island kinda surprise?"

Bucky's enthusiasm was inevitably infectious, and Steve felt himself relax a little, an easy smile finding its way onto his face.

"Better." He assured Bucky.

"Seriously?" Bucky rocked back and forth from his heels onto his toes excitedly, "Do I need anything special?"

"Just the usual." Steve assured him with a smile.

"Okay le'me just get my backpack, a jacket and a glove." Bucky waved his left hand in the air, "Be right back Stevie." With a grin, he rushed into his bedroom, leaving Sam, Flake and Steve at the front door.

"To think of what he was like when we first found him at the police station." Sam muttered.

When Steve looked at him, he found Sam smiling brightly, his eyes soft and fond.

* * *

They walked. The midday traffic was in full swing, angry drivers hooting and swearing while they tried to make their way through Brooklyn. Bucky watched the cars idly, observing the way smaller cars tried to squeeze past yellow school busses and SUVs. The sky was spotted with cotton-bud clouds that hid the sun in steady intervals.

The path they were taking was painfully familiar to Steve who kept shooting assessing glances at Bucky nervously to see if he remembered anything. As of yet, Bucky seemed oblivious, too busy assessing the traffic situation to pay much attention to where they were heading.

His hypervigilance had calmed down considerably but he did still seem to zone in on the louder objects first, feeling the need to gage those before being able to relax. Steve was suddenly glad for the heavy traffic, breathing a quiet sigh of relief.

They walked in comfortable silence for a few blocks until they came to a painfully familiar T-junction.

Upon entering the road Steve had dreaded to revisit, Bucky stopped dead. His hand, firmly holding onto Steve's, twitched and his eyebrows furrowed.

"I know this place." He admitted, but the confusion on his face betrayed the fact that Bucky didn't know from _where_ he knew the street. Out of a mixture of instinct and habit, Bucky's free hand began reaching for his backpack to pull it forward.

"It'll all make sense just now." Steve assured him, his promise halting Bucky's hand and returning it back to his side.

"Steve?" Bucky looked at Steve with wide and vulnerable eyes, Do you know this place?"

"Like the back of my hand." Steve admitted, pained by the many memories that badgered him. They demanded for him to tell Bucky all the stories that he was busy pushing to the back of his mind frantically in order to keep his fragile composure.

After a while, with a hardly-visible nod, Bucky signalled that he was ready to continue and the three of them walked on. Now Bucky didn't seem care about the traffic anymore, regardless of how loud a car hooted or how fast the vehicles sped past. Instead, he was looking up at the buildings with calculating eyes, at the many medium-sized, slightly worn-looking apartment buildings lining the road. Some had miniature courtyards in front of them, littered with old toys, plants, bicycles or old couches that no-one wanted. Trees, fenced in by round metal fences were spread out evenly along the pavement, forming a neat row on both sides of the road. A small corner shop was located at the end of the road, two apartment buildings away from the building that immediately caught Bucky's attention.

A feeling of yearning and melancholy washed over him, and he had to slow down to compose himself, feeling his chest tighten.

Steve was acutely aware of all the emotions Bucky was going through while they walked- they were playing out on Bucky's face like a movie; but he knew that there was no avoiding the onslaught of emotions associated with this road. All he could do was grasp onto Bucky's hand a little tighter in hopes that it would give his boyfriend a sense of security and remind him that he wasn't in this alone.

Briefly, Steve wondered if Bucky could sense the unease Steve was feeling and that he wasn't the only one suffering under the feelings associated with the road they were walking along.

* * *

When they came to a standstill in front of the building Bucky had noticed, a shuddering sigh passed through Bucky's lips.

"Steve…" He whispered hoarsely, realization slowly starting to seep into his mind, "Steve is this…?"

Steve swallowed and without a word, nodded. A small smile passed between the two of them before Steve began to slowly and carefully lead Bucky up the porch stairs and through the front door, their fingers staying firmly interlocked the entire time.

The stairwell smelt slightly musty, just as it had all those years back. They passed by the mailboxes and Bucky's eyes, presumably more out of old habit, immediately found the mailbox with the name _Barnes_ written on it. Tears began to form behind his eyes and a lump developed in his throat. His steps sped up gradually until he was the one leading Steve up the stairs, hurriedly.

Bucky rushed up to the fourth floor, down the corridor that led to the left, onwards until he was standing in front of a familiar door with the apartment number 4E written on it.

He took a deep breath before letting it out slowly, concentrating on the way his shoulders dropped with the exhale.

He stared at the golden letters for a long moment before looking down at the doorbell. His surname was written in bold black letters on a white card stuck to the wall above the doorbell.

Unsure as to what to do, he turned to Steve for help, looking as lost as he had after each flashback, after each nightmare and relapse he had had over the past years. Nervously, Bucky licked his lips. "I'm scared." He admitted readily, feeling a weight drop from his shoulders the moment Steve's warm eye met his.

Steve was smiling at Bucky sympathetically. His trembling eyes held the same sort of vulnerability and fear that Bucky was near to overwhelmed by.

"Me too pal." Steve confessed, "But we can do this. Together."

"Yeah." Bucky agreed, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat, feeling as though it was about to choke him.

"If the two of you are ready, I'm gonna ring the bell." Sam warned, pausing when both Steve and Bucky tensed notably, "You two sure about this?" Sam enquired, smiling understandingly when Steve and Bucky exchanged wary glances.

"I gotta." Bucky said, "I want to remember this too."

"I'll help you." Steve promised, "Whatever it takes- I'll do it."

"Thank you." Bucky smiled at Steve crookedly, edging closer to Steve when Sam pushed down on the doorbell.

* * *

There you have it! I feel like I have to give you guys a heads-up: this story is coming to an end slowly. Which makes me sad. But if you have an prompts or ideas for any other Stucky fanfics you would like to see me write, let me know! Either inbox me or leave it in the reviews! :)


	34. Chapter 34

I'd be lying if I said that I haven't been procrastinating about posting this chapter. Because... well... this is the last chapter for Remembering.  
Please do let me know what you think and I truly hope that you enjoy this one!

* * *

 **Chapter 34**

Rebecca Barnes' head snapped up when she heard the doorbell ring. A burst of excitement and nervousness ran through her at the prospect of seeing Steve again. The twenty-year old had been more than surprised when she'd received a text message from Steve earlier that day, asking if he could visit them. She had been surprised that he'd had her number even after all these years, even more surprised that Steve hadn't changed his. It had been seven years since she'd last seen him and she couldn't help but wonder what had made him want to see them again. Without a doubt, she was happy to see her late brother's best friend again; still, she knew that seeing Steve's face would be a bittersweet thing- she'd never seen Steve without Bucky at his side and seeing him now would probably be painful- for both of them. Still, Steve had suffered just as much as they had when Bucky had been declared dead. It was no secret that both Bucky and Steve cared deeply for one another- it was why Bucky had put Steve down as his emergency contact at the military instead of his own mother.

"Mom!" Rebecca called out, dropping the novel she had been reading onto her bed and rushing out of her bedroom on woolen socks, "Steve's here!"

"Go let him in will you honey? I'm almost done making the apple pie!" Winifred Barnes called from the kitchen cheerfully, poking her head around the corner so she could flash her daughter a warm smile.

"Steve's gonna love that!" Rebecca called back, grinning.

Dressed in a pair of maroon jogging pants and a loose-fitting purple long-sleeved shirt, Rebecca scurried to the front door. She stopped beside the mirror they had hanging next to the wardrobe in the entrance, giving her reflection a critical once-over. Steve had last seen her when she was thirteen and a half. She had been a child back then. Now she was well on her way to becoming an adult. She could see the resemblance she had to Bucky, sharing the same eye colour as him and the same strong facial features. She brushed her long brown hair behind her ears before looking away from her reflection and taking one last, deep breath before opening the door.

The smile she had prepared for Steve faltered when she realized that Steve wasn't alone. Despite there being two strangers at her door, her attention was immediately drawn to the larger stranger standing directly next to Steve, holding his hand.

"Hey Rebecca." Steve greeted her quietly, cautiously.

"Hey Steve!" She greeted him hoarsely, shooting a quick, acknowledging smile at him before looking at the man again. He looked like he had just seen a ghost- pale skin, mouth hanging open and eyes wide with shock.

Just as she was about to open her mouth to introduce herself to him, her mind clicked, and the truth hit her like a backhand slap to the face. He looked different, harrowingly so but still, even after all this time, even after all of the changes he had obviously gone through and as impossible she was telling herself that it was, there was not a shadow of a doubt in her mind that this was… he was….

Within milliseconds, the world that she had so carefully and meticulously built up after Bucky's death, came crashing down in a roaring inferno that picked her apart like fresh pastry. She clenched her jaw and her lips began quivering uncontrollably while hot tears left wet trails on her flushed cheeks on their downward path towards her chin.

She wanted to say his name, but her voice cut out just as a quivering sob forced its way up her throat.

Bucky looked just as mortified as his sister did. Their matching eyes were both wide and teary, missed years' worth of worry and sadness breaking the surface like a hot geyser.

"Becca." Bucky breathed her name like a whispered prayer. He opened his arms for her slowly, hesitantly, suddenly afraid of his own strength, afraid that he might hurt his petit baby sister, afraid that the person he had become couldn't be gentle enough for her.

"How could this… But you. They said… Is it really you?" She wailed, stretching her arms out towards him like a child begging to be held.

"O'course it's me Becca." Buck said brokenly, gathering her much smaller body into his large arms carefully, "Ever seen another fella look this handsome?"

"Bucky!" She sobbed, falling against his chest and repeating his name over and over again disbelievingly, her weeping becoming louder and louder the longer this went on.

"Hey…" Bucky tried to soothe her, "Hey it's okay. You don't gotta cry like that Becca." He ran his right hand over her hair gently, holding her head against his chest while she cried into the white t-shirt he was wearing, leaving dark stains where her tears soaked into the fabric.

Steve could only see her hands that were clinging onto Bucky's sides, her arms too short to reach all the way around her brother's wide torso. Her thin fingers were holding onto the fabric of his hoodie so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

Looking at Rebecca and the way she clung to Bucky reminded Steve so much of what he had felt when he had first laid eyes on Bucky in that interrogation room. It brought forth the insatiable urge to grab onto Bucky as well, to remind himself that Bucky was there, that he was real, that he was staying and that he wasn't dead after all; but he stopped himself, rooting himself to the ground beneath his feet with sheer determination, set on giving Rebecca the time she needed with her older brother.

Sam, sensing Steve's inner turmoil, put an arm around Steve's shoulders, pulling him into his side for comfort. Steve accepted the embrace with utmost gratitude, trying to drown out the heart wrenching sound of a sister crying over a brother she thought she had lost forever.

The group of four was abruptly ripped out of their little bubble when they heard a loud gasp.

Winifred had approached so quietly that not even Bucky had heard her up until she had made herself known.

Unlike Rebecca, Winifred had known exactly who he was the moment she had seen him and yet, that didn't stop her mind from yelling at her, telling her that this was just another one of her dreams about how she wished her son would come home, that he wasn't dead.

"James?" She croaked, hands reaching out on their own to touch his face. She seemed much more composed than Rebecca who was still holding onto Bucky as if she was scared that he would disappear if she let him go. Despite her apparent composure, when Bucky dared to look his mother in the eyes, he could see the way Winifred's heart was breaking all over again. Her blue eyes were like mirrors, reflecting the inner chaos she was going through upon seeing her son again after having attended his memorial service, after having gone through years of therapy, after mourning her own son's death.

Out of all the people that Bucky knew, Steve excluded, his mother was the person that knew him best. He could see the way her beautiful eyes were looking him over, taking in all the changes as if she were making a mental list of all of them, drawing a map in her mind of all the subtle changes that only a mother could notice.

Her hands were soft and warm and disbelieving, tracing his cheekbones, running along the bridge of his nose, over his forehead and over his brown hair. Bucky relaxed into the touch, smiling at the familiarity of those hands, at how they made him feel secure, nurtured even. Her hands carded through his hair briefly before moving on to his ears, his neck, his shoulders… When her hesitant hands touched the base of his metal arm though, he flinched, pulling away from her instinctively as if her touch had burnt him.  
"Sorry." He apologized immediately, bowing his head ashamedly like a child afraid of being scolded.

"What happened to you?" Winifred asked him tearfully, "What happened James? They told us you were dead. What on earth…" Her façade cracked, letting some of her sadness leak out in form of a few stray tears.

"We should probably go inside for this." Sam chipped in formally, his voice brimming with kindness and warmth, "Sam Wilson, VA councilor." He added when both Rebecca and Winifred looked at him, both visibly surprised by his presence, as if they hadn't noticed him up until that point.

Winifred then diverted her attention to a distraught Steve. He looked to her like he was coming apart at the edges, much like he had looked at the memorial service, dressed in black with dark rings under his bloodshot eyes, small body shaking with uncontrollable weeping.

"Steven." She acknowledged him warmly, noting the way he jumped and bowed his head when she tried to meet his eyes. "It's so good to see you Steve. You look well." She added.

When Steve failed to reply, Rebecca's face twisted into a frown. She let go of her brother, moving to stand in front of Steve's tall frame instead.

"Steve." She said reproachfully albeit gently, taking a hold of his hand and holding onto it tightly, "Don't do that." She implored, "You need to stop blaming yourself for what happened."

"I'm so sorry." The words burst out of Steve, his voice worn thin with sorrow.

It made Bucky's heart clench. He wanted to draw Steve in, kiss him, tell him that everything was okay, that he wasn't at fault for anything that had happened. Before he could do anything though, his mother stepped in, wearing the gentlest of looks on her face.

"What on earth are you apologizing for?" She asked him, pulling the now much taller man into a tight, motherly hug.

"I left you guys. I… I disappeared. It was wrong of me. I just… every time I looked at you-."

"Hush child." Winifred shushed him quietly, placing a hand at the back of his head to bring his head down onto her shoulder, "You don't need to explain yourself."

"But I'm _so sorry_." Steve insisted tearfully, wrapping his arms around Winifred and clinging to her as though he was clinging to his very own mother.

"So are we." Rebecca mumbled, seeming to fight with tears of her own as she snuggled up to Steve's side to join in the hug.

* * *

The living room hadn't been changed at all. It still had the garish green couches and the fluffy cream carpet. The coffee table was still the same thick-framed glass table littered with magazines and used coffee mugs that left rings on the glass when lifted. The mantel above the TV was still filled with family photos, even the ones of Bucky and the ones of Steve and Bucky from Steve's countless visits. One thing had changed though: next to the door to the hall, Winifred had put up a large, framed picture of Bucky in his military dress uniform. He looked quite handsome in the photo with a gentle smile and an optimistic look in his eyes.

Bucky's eyes lingered on the almost life-sized photo shortly before he looked at his mother who was sitting with Rebecca on the two-seater adjacent to the couch Bucky had sat down on with Steve.

She still looked almost the same as she had when he'd said goodbye to her on the morning he had shipped out. She had aged a little, more wrinkles adorning her beautiful face and yet, there was still something young about her. Her eyes hadn't changed at all and her hands still looked exactly the same. Her hair was done up in a bun, just as she preferred it, with grey strands threaded in between the brown ones, like silver tinsel decorating a Christmas tree.

Sam had opted for the stool in the corner of the room next to the bookshelf, preferring to watch the exchange from a distance. He wanted Bucky and Steve to know that he was there if they needed him, but he also had absolutely no intention of interfering or taking control of the conversation that was bound to start at any moment.

The air felt heavy around them as though the emotions and regrets felt by each person had become palpable and had begun floating around in the air, weighing it down.

Instinctively, Bucky leant towards Steve until their shoulders brushed.

The contact yanked Steve back to reality and he blinked a few times, tearing his eyes away from the framed photo of Bucky. Slowly, Steve rested his hand on Bucky's thigh, rubbing his thumb over the rough fabric of Bucky's jeans in comforting strokes.

The gestured relaxed Bucky and he let out a slow breath, leaning back in his seat. Absently, Bucky noted that his mother's eyes flicked to Steve's hand before they came to rest on Bucky's eyes. With a relieved smile and a nod, she encouraged him to start.

"The 107th got captured." Bucky began, picking out every word he spoke slowly, trying to distance himself from what he was saying in order to keep it together, "I was imprisoned by a Neo-Nazi organisation that…" Against his will, Bucky's voice dissipated into silence, the knot in his throat making it impossible to speak. He felt a cold sweat begin to build, starting at the back of his neck. His breathing became laboured and he bent forward on instinct, horrifying memories racing to the forefront of his mind.

"It's alright." He heard Steve say.

In the periphery of his vision, Bucky could see that his mother had gotten up. He felt ashamed, chastising himself for acting like this in front of his family. He didn't want them to think that he wasn't okay. He didn't want them to know that he was _broken_.

"Buck?" Steve added quietly.

Bucky's head lifted on its own, following the direction of Steve's voice until he was looking at Steve.

There was pain and fear in Bucky's eyes. His forehead was creased in worry, his lips caught between chewing teeth.

"Let me tell them." Steve offered.

Bucky shook his head. "This ain't your story to tell Stevie."

"Remember what happened the last time you tried to tell the story? When you tried to tell me?" Steve replied stubbornly, "I'm not gonna put you through that again. You don't have to deal with this alone Buck- let me take some of the load off your shoulders." Steve had that fiercely determined look in his eyes, the look that no-one, not even the teachers at his school had been able to argue with. Bucky hadn't ever been able to either, regardless of how often he had tried.

"Bucky." Sam chose to speak up, "Steve's right. There's no point in torturing yourself by forcing yourself to talk about what happened. Let him do this."

Bucky gritted his teeth, unhappy with Steve's solution. He knew that retelling the story was going to put Steve through hell, but he also knew that his own reactions to telling the story might be more upsetting not just for Steve, but for his sister and mother as well- that is, assuming he even managed to get the words out.

"Fine." Bucky relented disconcertedly.

"Bucky why don't you go and show Sam the balcony?" Winifred suggested quietly.

With a stiff nod, Bucky got up, his body moving more like the Winter Soldier's as he crossed the living room to the large glass door leading to the balcony.

Once Bucky was outside and completely out of earshot, Winifred and Rebecca gave Steve their undivided attention, visibly preparing themselves for whatever Steve was about to tell them. Winifred looked graver than she had to start off with and Rebecca looked like she was about to start crying again. To Rebecca, Bucky had always been the strong big brother- this Bucky however, looked disconcerted and fragile, the exact opposite to how she remembered him.

"None of this is going to be particularly easy on you." Steve warned them.

Winifred shook her head, a look of sheer motherly determination finding its way onto her features. "It doesn't matter what it'll be like for us. Tell us everything you know."

"Are you sure you want to-."

" _Everything_." Winifred insisted, fixing Steve with the stubborn look that he knew from Bucky.

Sighing heavily, Steve gave in with a nod of his head. "Everything." He echoed, as if he were reminding himself, convincing the painful memories to resurface.

His eyes found the life-sized portrait of Bucky again while he let his mind go back to what he had learnt from Colonel Rhodes and eventually, allowed himself to carefully edge closer to the memory of the day that Steve had spoken to the Winter Soldier.

"The 107th, Bucky's unit, was attacked in Syria shortly after deployment. It was an ambush with IEDs that the enemy had hidden along the roads. The explosion killed Bucky's entire unit and severed Bucky's left arm." He paused when Rebecca gasped, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. "They must have… they must have thought everyone was dead because they missed Bucky lying in the remains of the Humvee. An organization called Hydra found him. According to reports they scour battlefields across the world for soldiers left behind. Those soldiers get filed as MIA anyway and… no-one ever goes looking for them."

Winifred nodded, comprehension settling onto her features like a dark shadow.

Steve struggled to get himself to tell the rest of Bucky's tragic story. He wished he could leave out all the gruesome details and all the things that would give Rebecca nightmares, but they had a right to know. In fact, they needed to hear the entire story in order know how to act appropriately around Bucky, to understand his reactions, his new and strange habits.

"As Bucky already said, Hydra was a Neo-Nazi organisation, infamous for its… its experiments on humans." Steve went on.

Winifred closed her eyes, paling.

"I can stop." Steve offered firmly.

She shook her head. "Go on Steven. He deserves for us to know the truth. When bad things happen to good people, looking away is like abandoning them. I refuse to look away when it comes to my son."

"I understand." Steve nodded, turning his attention to Rebecca, "And what about you?"

"I want to know too. I don't care how bad it is- at least Bucky won't be the only one who can't sleep at night."

"Alright." Steve nodded, forcing down the wave of tears that wanted to overwhelm him.

After a deep breath, he continued. "They cut off what was left of Bucky's arm and installed a new one. It's cybernetic, attached to his nervous system through electrical cables mimicking nerve paths."

There were other details like the lack of anesthesia or the fact that they had drilled the metal base for the arm into Bucky's torso that Steve chose to omit.

"Around the same time, they started to torture him with the goal of breaking his spirit."

Rebecca flinched, huddling closer to her mother for comfort while Steve pressed on, feeling bile rise into his throat when he thought about what the Winter Soldier had described to him- another thing he was going to omit.

"Once his spirits were broken… they started wiping his brain."

"What?" Winifred looked equally as mortified as she did confused, "How is that possible?"

Steve wished that she hadn't asked that, that he could spare them the details. But she'd cracked open that egg and Steve felt that refusing to divulge the information would make Winifred worry more than if she knew the truth.

"They invented a machine that gets strapped around the head. Using electrical currents, the brain is short-circuited. It's like whipping the motherboard on a computer. The amnesia is only temporary though because the brain heals itself over time, so they have to keep doing it over and over again to prolong the effects. Also, when the effects start wearing off, they have to repeat the process."

"That hurts, doesn't it?" Rebecca asked Steve in a small voice.

"Yeah."

Rebecca looked down at her lap, a few tears slipping from her eyes while her hands balled into angry fists. "How could they do something like that to him?"

"The world is full of horrible people, darling." Winifred tried to comfort Rebecca, pulling the petit girl onto her lap and wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Once they'd managed to wipe his mind they began conditioning him for certain behaviour."

"What kind of behaviour?" Winifred asked.

"Winifred, you really don't want to-."

"What did those bastards make my son do, Steven?"

Steve hesitated, staring at Winifred until he couldn't bear the sadness and urgency in her eyes any longer. He had to tell her. He owed this to her. If anyone deserved to know the truth about Bucky, it was his own mother.

"They forced him to kill people for them."

That was the last push Rebecca needed to fall off the edge. She clenched her jaw and began crying silently, anger keeping her sobs at bay until she had managed to bury her face in her mother's shirt.

Steve scrambled to find a more positive thing to tell the two women in hopes of comforting them. "SHIELD, the government security organization raided a Hydra base and found Bucky there. He was in cryo at the time so it-."

"They _froze_ him?" Winifred whispered, looking close to tears now also.

"It was… easier to keep him stable that way. It was a sort of pause button. When they didn't need him, they froze him to keep him compliant."

"But SHIELD got him out?" Rebecca had removed her face from her mother's blouse, her eyes shimmering with hope.

"They did. They brought him to New York City and tried to talk to him to find out what had happened to him. For some reason Hydra had left his dog tags on him, maybe for identification purposes although Bucky no longer knew who he was, nor did the dog tags mean anything to him at the time."

"That's why you only brought him now, am I right?" Winifred surmised.

Steve nodded. "He was brought in two years ago and Sam, the VA councilor, was called to handle the case. I was helping Sam at the time, so he took me along with him. Bucky was categorized under _veteran with an extreme case of PTSD_. He was violent and tried to kill anyone who got too close to him."

"Except you." It wasn't a guess on Winifred's part; she had said it as though it was a certainty.

"He hurt me." Steve admitted with a wry smile. Automatically, his hand lifted to his throat, "But for some reason, he never quite managed to kill me although he had no idea who I was or who he was."

"But he remembers now?" Winifred asked.

"He's regained most of his memories, yes. It took a while and at the beginning he was still very impulsive and violent. Not anymore though. He hasn't had an episode for almost an entire year now. He still has normal PTSD-related flashbacks but nothing like before his rehab." Steve paused, directing his eyes to the backpack Bucky had left at Steve's feet, "This backpack is full of notebooks. He writes down all the memories that he cares about most in those books as he remembers them. He's still scared that he'll forget again, and he goes through the notebooks often to make sure he still remembers everything, but his memories have become stable and he can recall them whenever he wants."

"He's been through so much." Winifred muttered, glancing over at the balcony door for a short moment before looking at Steve with a gentle smile, " _You've_ been through so much. I'm not quite sure how to thank you for everything you've done for Bucky."

"He would have done the same for me." Steve replied quickly without a hint of uncertainty, "I'd go through all of that again a thousand times over if I had to."

"We know. And that's why you're so incredibly special." Winifred insisted, "Bucky's always seen that part of you, you know."

"Well, he does have better eyesight than I do." Steve laughed, dodging the cushion that Rebecca threw at him.

The small group enjoyed that small moment of amusement, taking it in readily after such a heavy conversation. Eventually though, Rebecca spoke up, asking, "So… what do we do now?"

"I think the smartest move is to not talk to him about what happened to him." Steve answered, "Show him that you acknowledge it and that you accept him, metal arm and all- that's all he needs from you. Really, all he wants in normality."

Both women nodded fervently, a look of determination flashing across both their faces.

Raising his voice only slightly, Steve said, "We're done here Bucky, you can come back inside."

"There's no way he heard you say that." Rebecca challenged.

Steve cocked his eyebrow, smiling when he heard the door open.

"What the hell?" Rebecca muttered, gawking at her brother who walked into the room a little hesitantly.

Bucky was assessing the situation with darting, uncertain eyes, habit forcing his metal arm behind his back.

"What's gotten into you?" Winifred asked him, "You look like you've seen a ghost! Sit down James, we're not going to bite you."

"Or judge you." Rebecca chipped in, grinning at Bucky the way she always used to.

"What did you…?" Bucky looked at Steve with wide eyes.

"Everything except for the part with the enhancements because I thought you might enjoy showing off a little."

Steve's smile melted the tension in Bucky's body and he chuckled, striding over to the couch to settle down next to Steve again.

"Buck! Show us the arm!" Rebecca exclaimed, jumping up from the seat and hurrying over to kneel in front of Bucky, resting her hands on his legs.

Steve wasn't sure if Rebecca was quite as enthusiastic about the arm as she was letting on, but even if she was exaggerating her genuine interest a little- it would definitely do no harm to anyone.

Bucky looked astonished, his mouth opening and closing a few times dumbly while he failed to think of anything to say.

"C'mon! Before we grow old!" Rebecca rolled her eyes, shoving at him demandingly.

"Okay… sure. If you… want." Bucky looked utterly perplexed as he pulled off the hoodie, his muscles straining against the fabric of his white t-shirt.

"Oh my gosh! This is the coolest thing ever!" Rebecca grabbed a hold of Bucky's metal hand without the tiniest trace of disgust or fear, pulling it forward to inspect it, "Wait- can you feel this?" She shot him an assessing glance while she poked at the palm of his hand testingly.

"Uh… yeah." Bucky muttered bashfully, his cheeks going a little red.

"Move it! Move it!" Rebecca instructed, and Bucky did as he was told.

He opened and closed his hands a few times, wiggled his fingers and bent his elbow. Inevitably, the platelets moved to adjust to Bucky's movements and Rebecca's eyes grew impossibly wider.

"I am _so jealous_!" She whined, "Hey! Can I take a picture of your arm and post it on Snapchat? My friends are going to go crazy over this!"

"Uh…" Bucky averted his eyes, his cheeks turning an even darker shade of red, "Sure… I mean… I guess you could. If you want."

"If I want? You're like Luke Skywalker, Bucky! Luke freaking Skywalker!"

"Becca, stop harassing your brother like that." Winifred chided gently, shaking her head at her daughter's over-enthusiasm, which, Steve had realized by then, was completely genuine.

"But _Mom_! Did you _see_ his arm?" Rebecca asked, holding up Bucky's heavy hand as if to prove a point.

Steve was watching the blush spread from Bucky's cheeks to his ears. Seeing Bucky blush was an unfamiliar sight, but he was determined to commit it to memory. Maybe he would draw it sometime.

He would definitely draw it sometime.

"Hey Buck?" Steve spoke up.

Bucky's head snapped around and his cheeks grew even darker when he remembered that Steve was there and that he was witnessing all of this. "Why don't you tell Rebecca about your enhancements?"

"Uh… well… they're nothing much…"

"Bucky can lift a car with one hand." Steve told Rebecca, grinning when Bucky shot him a dark look.

Rebecca on the other hand, looked like she was meeting one of the guys from One Direction, her eyes glowing with fascination, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Are you _serious_?" Rebecca gawked at Bucky, "Wait. Show me. Pick me up."

"You're getting all of this back, Stevie." Bucky muttered, ignoring Steve's subsequent laughter while he got up.

Rebecca was up on her feet too, stretching out her arms enthusiastically.

"How good's your balance?" Bucky asked her, still too flustered to put a lot of emotion into his trembling voice. "Pretty good. Why?"

"Here." He knelt down, lowering his lower left arm into a horizontal position, "Stand on my hand and arm."

"There's no way you could hold that." Rebecca insisted but did as she was told. Her hands found his shoulders, her fingers digging into the scar tissue on Bucky's left shoulder. He wanted to pull away from the uncomfortable sensation, but he stopped himself, concentrating on Rebecca instead. "Okay now hold on tight." He told her before getting up, keeping his lower arm at a ninety-degree angle to his upper arm.

The angle would make it impossible for any normal human to carry a lot of weight on the arm never mind an entire person, and yet Bucky managed to make it look effortless.

Winifred got up, her eyes wide with astonishment. She walked around the coffee table, studying Bucky and her daughter who was standing on Bucky's arm, cheering.

"That's impossible." She whispered, shaking her head, "What did they do to you?"

"They called it the super-soldier serum." Bucky explained, putting Becca down again slowly, "It gives me enhanced strength, speed, hearing and healing. Also, my metal arm is pretty strong all on its own too."

"So you're basically a superhero." Rebecca concluded.

Bucky frowned, the concept sending his mind for a loop before he decided that no, he couldn't possibly be a superhero.

"Pretty much, but then again I've always known Buck was a superhero." Steve's voice shattered Bucky's self-deprecating thoughts and the brunette laugh airily, leaning in to give Steve an adoring kiss without really thinking about what he was doing.

The shocked lack of reciprocation from Steve and the unanimous gasps from the women in the room yanked Bucky back to the reality of the situation and he realized, much to his embarrassment, that his mother and sister still thought that he was straight.

"You finally told him?!" Rebecca was the first to speak up, her hands wrestling Bucky into turning towards her. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

Bucky frowned, confused by his sister's question.

"You finally told Steve how you feel about him?" Rebecca tried again, calming down a little when she noted the puzzled look on her brother's face.

"How did you know?" Winifred worded Bucky's question on his behalf, smiling when Bucky gave her a thankful nod.

"We spoke about it before Bucky went off to basic. He was packing to leave. I came into his room and he was busy putting a picture of Steve into his wallet." Rebecca giggled at the memory, nudging Bucky as unsubtly as she could.

The ensuing blush that broke out across Bucky's face was proof enough that her words had successfully triggered the memory of the incident.

"You had to go and say that in front of Stevie, didn't ya?" Bucky muttered, blushing even more when Steve put his arm around his boyfriend, his warm laughter colouring the room in golden colours.

"I can't believe you forgot about that part." Rebecca laughed, punching her brother in the arm gently, old habits resurfacing like fond memories of summers spent hanging around Coney Island and Rockaway Beach.

"Yeah…" Bucky's body stilled, and he leaned into Steve more. After a short moment of obvious introspection, Bucky snapped out of it, looking over at Steve with a strange, almost giddy look on his face.

"Hey Steve…?"

"What's up Buck?"

"I think this was it." He gestured to everything around him, "This was the last piece." He laughed lightly, looking from Sam, to his mother and sister and then back at Steve.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked him, marvelling at how light-hearted Bucky looked all of a sudden, hoping that that look would last a very, very long time.

"I think I'm done. I'm finally done remembering." Bucky explained giddily and a face-splitting grin spread across his beaming face.

* * *

Oh my gosh so there it is, that's the end of Remembering. It kinda makes me sad that it's over because I spent so much time on this story!

Thank you guys SO MUCH for all your love and support! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this FF not just because of the great characters but also because I really, really enjoyed your reviews and hearing about your reactions. Thank you so much for reading! Again, if you have any requests or prompts, let me have 'em xD

Here are some random facts about the story that no-one asked for:

The story is 214 A4 pages long, I used the word "Bucky" 3518 times and "Steve" 3897 times while "Stevie" was only used 127 times.


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